


Dumped and the Sweet Thereafter

by ForASecondThereWedWon



Series: Sweet Bee Stories [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty's still figuring herself out, Double Entendre, F/M, Friendship, Kevin dispenses wisdom which Betty ignores, New Year's Kiss, Opposites Attract, Romance, School Dances, Toni is supportive AF, Valentine's Day, Veronica loves being nosy about other peoples' romances, riverdale high, southside serpents, whereas Sweet Pea's pretty sure he knows EXACTLY who he is and what he wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-03-26 03:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 66,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13849251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForASecondThereWedWon/pseuds/ForASecondThereWedWon
Summary: Started on Fanfiction.net, continued here.This story's your standard boy meets girl while she's striping in a bar trying to be accepted as a gang groupie, girl gets dumped by her boyfriend that same night, boy sees his opportunity, girl thinks it's about time somebody made her feel this way. A classic, more or less. The role of "boy" will be played by Sweet Pea, "girl" by Betty Cooper, and "the ex" by Jughead Jones."Sweet Pea stepped up close behind her, gently grabbing the leather at her shoulders and sliding the jacket slowly off. 'Since you didn't ask,' he said low near her ear, 'I never saw the look on Jughead's face because I was too busy staring at you myself.'"





	1. Parking Lot Blues

I

Veronica had made an emotional exit. Archie hadn’t been far behind her, though without the benefit of a chauffeur he’d had to drive himself home. Betty was too ashamed to go back inside to ask her mom for a ride, or to borrow the keys if Alice was planning on turning her Serpent reunion into an all-nighter. She wasn’t close enough with Toni to request a lift, and was frankly a little nervous about the future implications of asking a gang member for a favour. Jughead, her perpetual first choice, was no longer even an option. Betty scuffed her shoe across the tarmac of the parking lot. She guessed most breakups didn’t end in a complimentary ride home to cry one’s eyes out in private, but it would’ve been considerate of Jughead to at least _offer_.

The result was her standing alone and indecisive, the number of motorcycles parked around her dwindling as Serpents went home to their families ( _families they managed to maintain and protect despite their shady affiliations_ , Betty thought, spitefully remembering Jughead’s reasons for their split). Her tears dried up, though the night air kept her flushed cheeks from paling. Her bare legs began to tingle as the temperature fell. Unclenching the arms she’d folded across her chest, Betty scrolled through her phone, wondering who she could persuade to come pick her up. Her dad? No. If he saw Alice dressed in a leather jacket at the bar of the Wyrm throwing back shots, it would just cause more problems. Archie? No. Judging by the way he’d chased Veronica offstage and then they’d left separately, Archie was as much in need of time to lick his wounds as Betty was. She scrolled some more. Cheryl? Not exactly tempting, but the options were getting thin. Betty had just about touched her hesitantly hovering thumb to the screen when she heard footsteps and glanced up.

“I know your mom’s name from the paper. Alice Cooper,” the dark-haired boy said thoughtfully, shaking his head as he approached at a casual stride. “She’s always trying to pin shit on the Serpents.”

Betty straightened out of her sad slump, clutching her fingers tightly around her freezing cold phone. Was she being threatened? The Black Hood was constantly on her mind and maybe that was finally having consequences (besides paralyzing stress and inescapable paranoia). She should’ve known better than to hang around the parking lot of a gang-operated bar, especially after being dumped by the only member who justified her being there. She could run, but one of these bikes was probably the boy’s…

“But now,” he smirked a little, stopping in front of Betty, “I’m impressed.”

There was a certain glint in his dark eyes, yet months of sleuthing and interrogations told Betty it wasn’t dangerous. She _thought_.

“By what?” she asked cautiously. She shifted subtly on her feet to angle herself away from him. “Her journalistic integrity?” Betty couldn’t help sarcastically tacking on.

Her companion smiled a little more.

“Her drinking. I’m not surprised she used to be a Serpent. Being able to hold your liquor like that should mean automatic membership.”

So, watching her daughter pole dance had driven Alice to drink. That seemed fair. Betty glanced up at the night sky, grinning to herself at her mother’s escapades. What had she unleashed bringing Alice here tonight?

“I had to get out of there when she tried to challenge me,” he said, still smiling. He had nice eyes, Betty thought. Their intensity had frightened her, but the smile softened it.

“Well, congratulations for escaping?” Betty offered uncertainly, her forehead scrunching as she tried to figure out the conversation she was having. She now knew why he’d left, but why had he come over to her? Unprompted gregariousness wasn’t exactly a classic Serpent trait.

“Sweet Pea,” Sweet Pea declared, holding out his hand to shake. Obviously, he’d taken her tentative tone to mean she was looking for an introduction. She clasped his hand, feeling his warm fingers tuck around her cold ones.

“Betty,” she replied, letting his hand go slowly and mourning the loss of heat. She scooped a strand of her loose, kinked hair behind her ear. For an awkward minute, they stared at each other, strained smiles slipping from their faces. It was hard to exit a conversation when you had nowhere to go. Betty rocked forward on the balls of her feet, feeling strangely restless.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to go back inside?” Sweet Pea asked, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder towards the Wyrm. _God_ , Betty thought, embarrassed, _did Jughead tell people we broke up or were we really making that big of a scene out here?_

“Not particularly.” She smiled uncomfortably. This was definitely getting weird. Maybe if she implied a ride was coming, he would leave of his own volition? “I’m actually just waiting for―”

“Then you need this. It’s winter, if you hadn’t noticed.” Sweet Pea unzipped and shrugged out of his leather Serpents jacket, holding it out to her bunched in his fist like the handle of a grocery bag. It seemed like awfully casual treatment for something with so much revered symbolism. Sure, F.P. had slung his over her earlier, but that had just been to cover her up after the badly-received strip show. Betty took a step back, waving Sweet Pea off.

“Oh no, I’ll be fine. I’m just―”

“Take it before I put it over your shoulders myself,” he insisted, shaking the jacket at her. “And I really don’t want to have to do that because Jughead’ll give me a black eye if he sees.” The corner of his mouth turned up. Betty grabbed it from him, biting the inside of her lip to temper her own smile.

“You don’t seem that worried.” She tunneled her arms into the sleeves and zipped it up. Pretty loose, but pre-warmed. It felt nice until Betty caught the smell of leather and thought about being with Jughead when he was wearing his.

“I’m not,” he said, a little cocky. “I could take him.”

“Then how would he give you the black eye?” Betty eyed Sweet Pea dubiously, curling her fingers up into the sleeves of his jacket.

“I’d let him. It’d be the trade-off for getting my arms around his girl,” he joked.

Betty laughed, but it was humourless.

“I think you’re safe there, actually.”

“ _No_ ,” Sweet Pea countered disbelievingly, eyebrows rising in evident comprehension. Betty felt a little relief that the guy was smart and she wouldn’t have to provide a painful, drawn-out explanation. “After _that_?” Again, he pointed back at the Wyrm and Betty knew he was referring to her dance.

“ _Especially_ after that, apparently.” Things were taking a turn for the weird again and she stared down at her feet.

“Was he _watching_ what was happening?” Betty glanced back up at him. The incredulity was so strong in Sweet Pea’s tone now that her smile became more amused than bitter.

“Trust me, his eyes were open, otherwise he couldn’t have given me a look worse than the one I got from my mom.” She realized she’d started talking to him the way she would to Veronica or Kevin. Betty was usually a private person, but Sweet Pea’s serious eyes encouraged her to confide in him.

“I didn’t see that.”

“Maybe you can ask him to replicate it sometime,” she suggested sarcastically.

Sweet Pea shrugged and crossed his arms. Betty realized he was probably getting pretty cold standing around, but he made no attempt to cut their conversation short.

“He doesn’t get it yet. Alice is old blood here. She respects our traditions. Jughead has yet to shed his first Serpent skin.”

“You don’t need to make excuses for him.” _Great_ , she thought, _I’m giving this guy the opportunity to gain favour with Jughead by saying how he came to his defense when I complained about him._

“My mistake. I was trying to insult him,” he clarified, cocking an eyebrow. “What kind of a fucking idiot looks at his girlfriend with disapproval while she’s giving him a show like that?”

Sweet Pea was the one who sounded insulted, but rather than cheered, Betty felt more self-conscious than ever. She didn’t know quite what to say and couldn’t have been happier when her mother came strutting from the bar (as only Alice Cooper could) and, wobbling only slightly, tossed Betty the keys.

“I see your ride’s here,” Sweet Pea said with a smile as Alice headed for the car.

“Hmm,” Betty hummed, less than thrilled, but smiling for some reason. “Lucky me.”

They stared at each other for a second before Betty snapped herself out of it and stepped around him.

“Nice to meet you, Sweet Pea,” she said over her shoulder. “Maybe I’ll see you around or―”

He frowned, walking after her.

“You’re not leaving here with my jacket. Jeeze, you North Siders are so entitled.” He gave her a stern look and Betty was mortified, but he smirked at the last second. She unzipped it and went to turn to face him, but Sweet Pea stepped up close behind her, gently grabbing the leather at her shoulders and sliding the jacket slowly off.

“Since you didn’t ask,” he said low near her ear, “I never saw the look on Jughead’s face because I was too busy staring at you myself.” Sweet Pea whisked the jacket away from her and flung it back over his own shoulders, stuffing his arms in roughly; Betty watched him over her shoulder―confused, a little thrilled. “Have a nice night, Betty. Good luck with your mom.”

Betty’s head whipped forward. Through the windshield, she could see Alice struggling to figure out her seatbelt.

“Goodni―” she started, turning back to Sweet Pea, but he was already at the door of the Whyte Wyrm.

Betty took a confused last look at the place, shivered, and ran to the car.


	2. Restless Minds

II

Even the dump the Southside Serpents called ‘home sweet home’ had closing hours, but things were lax post- F.P.’s retirement/re-commitment party, so Sweet Pea wandered around the Wyrm like a middle-aged lady browsing in a furniture store. When the pool players dropped their sticks and settled their bets, Sweet Pea skirted coyly around the table, giving the billiard balls twists that sent them soundlessly spinning. When the ‘dining room’ (everybody’s nickname for the seats not at the bar) squatters finally shifted their bulk, Sweet Pea moved in, slumping across several chairs at once, then meticulously straightening them all minutes later. When the mics were packed away from the weakest round of karaoke he’d ever seen (he’d never participated, but being a gang member meant feeling authorized to criticize), Sweet Pea hopped up on the stage and settled the stripper pole between his shoulder blades while he played a little furtive air guitar. When all of that got boring and he still didn’t want to go home, Sweet Pea decided to bother Toni for a while. By then, the rest of the place was empty, so it was either talk to her or to his reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror. Toni was typically nicer.

Far too good for the rest of them, she was predictably cleaning up. As he approached, Sweet Pea gestured for her to lower the rag she was wiping out glasses with. Toni gave him a heavy sigh like _who else is gonna do the work if I don’t?_ but clicked the glass into its place in a long sparkling line and turned her attention to him.

“What’s up?”

“I hope you’re not doing all this because you’re waiting for me to leave so you can close up.” As he spoke, he settled comfortably onto one of the stools across from her, trying to make it clear that he had no intention of heading out yet.

“Nah, I actually find it kind of relaxing.” Sweet Pea eyed Toni like she was nuts and she shrugged, apparently not bothered. “Plus, if I really wanted you to get out, I’d just whip you in the head with this―” she lifted a corner of the rag off the bar, “―until you were out the door.” She shot him a tired smile.

“Tough love.”

Toni laughed.

“What do _you_ know about love?” she asked jokingly, reaching for the rag and lowering her eyes as she starting to drag it slowly back and forth across the bar. The question put him on edge and Sweet Pea crunched his nails into the wood of the bar, finding the grooves of decades’ worth of crude carvings done by brawl-blunted switchblades.

“Ok, now you sound like a bartender.” A little joke between them since Toni’d started thinking that pouring the simple drinks their crowd ordered and asking after the odd person’s kid meant that she had acquired some kind of worldly wisdom.

“Pfft,” she replied scornfully. “How would you know what a bartender’s supposed to sound like?”

“I’ve been around.”

“Like you could get in anywhere but here.” Toni’s voice was teasing, but she’d glanced up from her task to give him a strange look. She dropped the rag again, resting her elbows on the surface in front of her to lean towards Sweet Pea, looking more carefully at him than he really cared to be looked at. He squared his shoulders, straightening up defensively. She pointed at his chest.

“Something’s different abou―”

“No,” he cut in brusquely, narrowing his eyes―one of his go-to intimidation techniques.

“Ok, I’m convinced. Case closed,” Toni replied sarcastically. Her eyes said ‘ _Seriously?_ ’

“You haven’t been bartending long enough to be able to read people as well as you _think_ you do,” Sweet Pea informed her.

“I can read _you_ like a damn book, you idiot, bartender or not. I’ve known you my whole life.”

That was Toni’s problem: weak in confrontations. As if being called an idiot was going to leave a permanent scar. It was practically a compliment. Maybe if she wasn’t such a sucker, the Serpents would never have gotten stuck with that dipshit Jughead Jones. Without Jones, Sweet Pea would still be the one in charge of the younger Serpents, not shafted into second-in-command. They wouldn’t be waiting like a circle of little girls playing telephone for Jones’s next whispered instruction in his sloppy scheme to solve problems that Sweet Pea never would have caused. The Wyrm would never have hosted tonight’s party, posing as some sort of privileged hipster adventure to Northsiders who wanted to sing karaoke in front of once and future criminals. It was Jones’s fault that they’d come strutting in here like they owned the Wyrm―though after the deal with the Twilight Drive-In, maybe one of them did. He was the one who brought them here. His friends, his problems, his blonde girlfriend in black lingerie. Fuck. Jones had been less of a problem before. His interference could be ignored or tolerated, but now he had done worse than interfere. Jones had shown Sweet Pea something he wanted and it was more than Sweet Pea could stand to be thankful to that beanie-wearing sonofabitch.

“Where were you earlier?” Toni asked. Suddenly, talking to her felt like being grilled by the cops.

“When?”

“ _Earlier_.”

“Here. I’m always here.”

“Listen to me, Sweet Pea.” Toni shoved his shoulder. Hard. He realized he was gripping the bar, fingers changing colour like he’d held them in a snowbank, and released it. “Jughead’s too new to see it, but not all of us are so easy to fool. I know something’s going on with you and you better not bring whatever it is to our next counsel.”

“What’s going on is I’m wasting my fucking night talking to you,” Sweet Pea muttered. Toni threw the rag in his face and he pushed off the stool, slapping his feet down on the sticky, alcohol-dribbled floor. “You missed a spot,” he snarked, pointing down. He headed for the door before she could race around the end of the bar and smack him.

“It’ll look a lot nicer in here once you leave!” Toni shouted.

“Fuck you!”

“Shithead!”

“Dumbass!” He smirked to himself as he let the door bang behind him.

* * *

“All yours!” Betty called down the hall as she stepped out of the bathroom. Her mom’s grunted reply rose from the couch and Betty frowned sympathetically in her direction. Alice would be sleeping in the living room tonight to avoid waking Hal (and because they’d tried unsuccessfully to get her unsteady legs to climb the stairs). Betty left her mother with a tall glass of water and a promise to leave her free reign of the downstairs bathroom for when all of the tequila she’d downed decided to come back up again.

Betty retreated to her bedroom and softly shut the door behind her. She brushed her hair until it was mostly straight again, took her time picking out her pajamas and getting changed, and caught up on some reading for her English class; she wasn’t exactly behind, but constantly hunting the Black Hood had really eaten into her homework time and while Steinbeck’s writing was straightforward enough, the length was unforgiving. After 30 pages, Betty set her book on her bedside table and clicked off her light. She tossed. She turned. She clicked her light on again. Across the room, her backpack slumped against her dresser. Betty got up and unpacked and repacked it. She smoothed the clothes she’d laid out to wear the next day. Stepping back, she regarded them. Pastel sweater. Jeans in an inoffensive medium blue wash. Had she made _herself_ this boring?

It was easy to blame her conservative style on her mother’s expectations and example, but after tonight, Betty knew that both of them had wilder iterations of themselves. Maybe a couple decades ago it had been her mother dancing around that pole, earning the encouraging whoops that Betty had been unable to provoke. Maybe they were more alike dressed in black than baby blue. As if that didn’t completely go against the reality Betty had thought she was living in. Sighing with the effort of shoving her analysis of her similarities to her mother to the back of her mind, Betty strode over to her closet, flinging the door open and scanning the pristine pale row of clothes. It was almost spooky. She felt like a Stepford wife. The palette and style of her wardrobe had seemed right for so long. Why was the weirdness hitting her so hard all of a sudden? Right, because the past months of being Jughead’s girlfriend had provided visual balance. He had been the literal dark to her light. Unfortunately, that superficial binary had influenced their relationship more deeply than that. Being with him had turned into feeling like the Sun, always chasing the dark side of the Earth. For once, Betty just wanted to stand still and have something, someone come to _her_ ….

Her earlier encounter with the young Serpent Sweet Pea burst in her mind like a camera flash. Betty’s heart beat harder. She turned, caught sight of her reflection in the mirror of her vanity, and saw that her face was flushed. His eyes, his smell, the feel of him pulling his jacket down her arms were memories so striking they paralyzed her in the present. She inhaled. Exhaled. Decided to get back in bed. Tripped during the few steps it took to get there. Climbing in, Betty pulled her covers up and let her back sink into the mattress. Was it pathetic of her to daydream about another guy the same night she’d just been dumped? Was it sad? Needy? She stopped her impulsive self-criticism and considered it another way. Did she need this? _Yes_ , she thought. _It’s been a long time since Jughead treated me like I deserved. When’s the last time I was so giddy over a guy that I couldn’t get to sleep?_ She wriggled in place, adjusting as she felt increasingly vindicated. It was sort of nice to lay in bed and think about a guy. She could maybe get used to this. Bare minimum, it beat wallowing over Jughead, which was how she’d thought her night was going to go.

So Betty gave herself permission to let go of her thoughts of the breakup. Who was Sweet Pea? Jughead had never mentioned him to her, which was either because Sweet Pea scared him or because Jughead never fucking told her anything and communication had been a problem between them almost since the beginning of their relationship and…

Betty breathed. Turned out her light and closed her eyes. Who was Sweet Pea? Last name, unknown. Height, good. Eyes, _hypnotic_. She grinned to herself before rolling onto her side and slipping her arm under her pillow to bunch it against her cheek. He looked about her age, though the serious expression had initially made him seem older. That meant he had to be a student at Southside High. How was she going to run into him? What would she say to him if she did? Could she go there in her capacity as a _Blue and Gold_ reporter? No. There were too many dangerous characters at that school to risk getting anyone’s back up. Her only reason to visit in the past had been Jughead and that was so far out of her consideration for excuses now that it was practically in the next galaxy. Did she and Sweet Pea have any other places in common? Riverdale High? No. Pop’s? No. Basically anything on the North side was a no. Betty figured she either had to brave the South side (on her own this time. Alice and the Whyte Wyrm needed a little distance put between them) or find neutral territory and somehow make sure that Sweet Pea would be there. It might not be easy, but solving difficult problems was Betty’s specialty.

For tonight, she yawned and drew her knees up to get warm faster. She gave Sweet Pea another thorough mental going-over. His eyes, his smell, the feel of him pulling his jacket down her arms…. Besides the physical, there were his words: “too busy staring at you myself,” he’d said. He’d said that. _To her_. Betty nestled in deep, clutching her pillow. Maybe she wouldn’t be the only one trying to find a way for them to meet again.


	3. Woman with a Plan

III

Christmas was coming and the days were passing like hours, except in the moments between Secret Santa and being her mother’s baking apprentice, which was when Betty, drained, finally had time to think. There wasn’t much progress in what she _did_ think, but it gave her a tiny excited feeling―like a tingly ginger ale bubble was rising in her chest―when she laid in bed at night and found that the memory of Sweet Pea intrigued her as much as ever. To walk outside during the day, Betty had to pull her bobbled toque down over her forehead and her thick scarf up over her nose while the wind whipped hard around her, yet the white noise allowed for peaceful focusing that was getting rarer at home. She wrapped presents with Kevin and let him carry the conversation. She volunteered for the menial task of holding the tangled bundle of lights while her dad―up a ladder―strung them along the eaves. She hung out at Pop’s with Veronica, switching their milkshakes for hot cocoas, and chatted with Archie when he came in during his breaks. The spruces, elms, and pines in the Andrews’ makeshift tree lot sold one by one, but Betty’s own pining only increased.

Jughead was in her thoughts too and it actually helped that her friends had gradually stopped treating his name as taboo. Archie especially seemed to have a renewed loyalty to Jughead and seeing it helped Betty to ease off the worrying she was still tempted to do over her ex. One afternoon, she saw Jughead writing at Pop’s. It made her heart feel like it was tied to a brick for the first few seconds after their eyes met, but they managed to smile at each other and even exchange waves, after Betty initiated it. Another day, heading to the _Register_ to drag her mother home for dinner after the paper’s shorter holiday hours had kicked in and Alice hadn’t obeyed them, Betty saw her mom having a perfectly friendly conversation on the sidewalk with F.P. Alice’s visit to the Whyte Wyrm appeared to be translating into decreased hostility towards the Serpents, meaning Betty could avoid that particular pain of having her mother verbally drag her ex-boyfriend at random moments during family dinner. On Christmas morning, she called Jughead to wish him and his dad Merry Christmas and they talked for five whole minutes, better than strangers, almost like friends.

At 11:30am on Boxing Day, Betty joined Veronica at the Lodges’ Pembrooke apartment for what had been pitched to her as brunch and online shopping. The two of them had decided in advance that there was no place in Riverdale worth physically going to. Of course, Veronica had greatly influenced this assessment during the lead up to Christmas by going on and on about the shopping opportunities in New York City. At first, the comparison had left Betty feeling like a raccoon tenant in the dumpster wasteland Veronica had stumbled into, but then V had assured her that, coming from NYC, she’d be a dirty city pigeon in that metaphor, which wasn’t any better. Betty had thought her friend was just saying it to be nice, though it did make her laugh. Veronica had rectified any feeling of dumpsterdom by then making plans with Betty for Boxing Day, on which occasion they would travel to all of Veronica’s favourite stores via the power of high-speed internet. So far, Veronica was making up for the money she’d saved not flying to NYC by buying that much more, but Betty wouldn’t chastise her trade-off so soon after Christmas. After the first dozen websites or so, she casually floated the idea of borrowing Veronica’s shopping expertise to broaden her own fashion horizons. Her pastel closet flashed before her eyes like one of Scrooge’s ghostly visitations. Veronica half-rolled away from her (they’d been lying on their stomachs on her bed) and eyed Betty with a suspicious smile.

“Who’s the guy?” she demanded. Betty’s mouth opened while her brain was still working on her response, but Veronica climbed off the bed, grabbing her hand. “Hold on,” she ordered, raising a silencing finger, “let’s discuss this over croissants.”

The dining room table had so far been laid with the barebones of cutlery and dishware; they sat across from each other at the end that had been reserved for brunch. Betty selected a croissant from a covered basket and dug up a scoop of peanut butter with her knife while Veronica stared at her like she was spreading liquid explosives on her food. Raising her PB-coated croissant to her mouth, Betty rolled her eyes at her friend, but Veronica banged her fist on the table, making Betty jump.

“Don’t you dare! If you eat that, it’ll stick to the roof of your mouth and I won’t get any details out of you. Here,” she added benevolently, sliding a cranberry muffin across the table to Betty, who sighed and accepted it. “Now,” Veronica started again, “I want to know who and when.”

“When what?” Betty’s eyebrows raised and she slowly peeled back the paper wrapper from her muffin to keep her nervous hands busy. “When I met the guy or when I’m seeing him next?”

“Either. Both.” Veronica propped her elbows on the table and linked her fingers. Resting her chin on them, she stared fixedly at Betty who could tell there was no way out of this. And why not give in? She hadn’t gotten far on her own.

“I’d rather not say who for now… but it was at the―” Betty cleared her throat, “―Whyte Wyrm.”

Veronica’s eyes became wide and excited, but just as quickly the eagerness went out of her.

“When we were there for F.P.’s retirement party?”

“Yeah,” Betty laughed. “I don’t go there every day.”

“Figures,” Veronica answered, spreading her hands on the table and studying them. “The one night I’m more focused on my own drama.”

_Well that’s not exactly accurate_ , Betty thought, but didn’t say anything.

“So it’s someone Jughead knows then?”

“It would be hard for him not to. The Serpents are a small, close-knit group.”

“Mhmm. The Brady Bunch meets the Hells Angels,” Veronica joked. Betty didn’t know what to say to that so she ate a piece of muffin. It was still an unsolved issue for her that Sweet Pea might be legitimately dangerous in a way that Jughead, newer to the gang, hadn’t been.

“The good thing is,” Veronica continued, after a meditative sip of orange juice, “you’ve figured out your type very young.”

Betty tore an end off her croissant and threw it at her friend, grinning in satisfaction when the peanut butter affixed it to Veronica’s forehead. With the greatest dignity, Veronica wiped it away with a napkin, clearly struggling not to laugh herself.

“Seriously though,” she said, crumpling the napkin into a ball, “another Serpent?” Her dark eyebrows lifted in concern. “Don’t you think that’ll be awkward at the very least?”

“I’m trying to patch things up a little with Jughead.” Betty shrugged and swung her legs under the table.

“Oh, who cares about him?” Veronica waved her hand indifferently. “I mean the logistics. You didn’t mention when you might be seeing him again, so I’m guessing you haven’t bumped into each other since the party.”

“Right,” Betty verified.

“Then this North/South thing isn’t something we should take lightly.”

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ this guy watched you strip down to lingerie and hasn’t come to find you yet. It’s more than lack of motivation or gas money that’s keeping you apart. It’s obviously something to do with his involvement with the Serpents.”

“Like he’s busy doing something horrible?” Betty frowned, her number one anxiety over Sweet Pea pushing to the forefront again.

“Or he doesn’t want to risk the most dangerous thing of all,” Veronica replied dramatically. When Betty couldn’t take it anymore, she reached across the table and shook her friend’s arm. “Crossing the ex-boyfriend,” Veronica said simply.

“So,” Betty recapped, “I can’t go there. He can’t come here…” This much she’d come to on her own.

“If the Serpents _do_ have something in the works, it won’t work to separate him from the pack. Or, nest,” Veronica said thoughtfully, “or whatever you call a group of snakes.”

“A group activity then.”

Veronica snapped her fingers, the sound somewhat dampened by lingering peanut butter.

“And it just so happens that we’re coming up on one of the biggest group celebrations there is. New Year’s Eve.”

“Maybe this is too much work…” Betty felt herself wavering. She wanted to see Sweet Pea, but orchestrating so much as a meet cute was starting to sound like an expedition up Everest.

“You’re _Betty Cooper!_ ” Veronica countered, shaking her head. “‘Too much work’ is your middle name. Now,” she began, her plan evidently forming as she spoke. “The highest building in Riverdale is probably the one we’re in right now―”

“And we’re as likely to get Mr. Darcy here as a Southside Serpent.”

“So it’s out,” Veronica agreed. “And no ball drop. God, I miss New York at this time of year…” she trailed off.

“Focus!” Betty instructed. “What if we skip the ball drop and concentrate on the party? We should be able to host a big one someplace, where anyone could come.”

“At a hotel? No,” Veronica corrected herself, “it needs to have a larger attendance capacity than that. Come on, B, think! Pop’s can’t be Riverdale’s only community gathering place!”

“Well, we used to have…” An idea came to Betty and now she was the one snapping her fingers. “The Twilight Drive-In!”

Veronica nodded eagerly.

“From what I’ve seen of my father’s plans, it hasn’t been developed much yet. They’ve torn down the screen and ripped the speaker posts out of the ground, but―”

“But it’s a huge empty space! It’s perfect!” Betty decided.

“It certainly wouldn’t be Times Square,” Veronica countered. Betty rolled her eyes. “I bet I could convince my father to pay for a stage to be set up though.”

“Maybe we could talk Josie into performing? She has fans on both sides of Riverdale.”

“That would draw a crowd.”

“We could hand out hot chocolate, coffee, maybe sparklers to make it festive?” Betty suggested.

“And I can think of a boy or two who’d be positively thrilled at the prospect of setting off as many fireworks as we could get our hands on at the hardware store.”

Betty’s smile slowly grew.

“This sounds like the beginning of a plan.”

* * *

Sweet Pea’s least favourite pain in the ass came up on him while he was talking to Toni. Just the sight of that beanie gave Sweet Pea uncomfortable flashbacks to the attack on Penny Peabody and the look Jones had had on his warped baby face when he cut into her. Sweet Pea hated the slippery lawyer as much as anybody in the know, but skinning the tattoo off her arm didn’t seem wise. Sure, he was implicated as much as the others since he’d helped restrain her, yet he preferred to keep his comments to himself. Luckily, scaring the shit out of resident queenpins hadn’t been the topic of conversation when Jones decided to walk up and stick his nose in. It was obvious he’d been eavesdropping and Sweet Pea welcomed him with a look that said he’d love another chance to beat the hell out of him. It had been too long since that sweet, sweet ritual of Jones’s Serpent initiation.

“Sweet Pea,” said Jones in his tone of flat sarcasm, “I didn’t know you were such a social butterfly.”

Toni had just been telling him about the New Year’s Eve party planned for the old Drive-In grounds. She’d heard about it from wherever Toni heard about things, which was always before any of the rest of them had. Sweet Pea could tell he wasn’t the only one on edge after Jones had kicked his crazy into a higher gear; a party sounded like something Toni might look forward to, and Sweet Pea too after he’d heard who was organizing it. Naturally, he’d reacted like the name Betty Cooper meant nothing to him. At least Jones had managed to miss that part of Toni’s explanation. Sweet Pea didn’t want to risk feeling nauseous if his Serpent brother got some kind of lovesick look on his face when Toni’d said his ex’s name. He’d eaten a decent sandwich for lunch and didn’t want to see it come up again all over the greasy floor of the Wyrm.

“You don’t know me, period,” Sweet Pea snapped back, giving Jones a cold stare.

“Ok, Mystery Man.” Jones held his hands in ‘don’t shoot’ position. “No one understands you.”

“Shut up, Jughead,” Toni interjected. Sweet Pea watched the asshole’s expression melt into something wounded at Toni’s scolding.

“Ouch,” said Sweet Pea faintly, driving his eyes into Jones’s like screws biting into soft wood. “I think you just kicked your puppy, Toni.”

Jones stepped forward as Sweet Pea smirked minutely, but Toni had a kind of sixth sense for throw downs and quickly got between them. Sweet Pea didn’t bother getting out of his chair. Let the punk make a fool of himself alone. On the opposite side of the table from where Toni had been sitting, Sweet Pea was out of her reach, yet close enough to watch her lay a calming hand on Jones’s arm.

“Aww,” Sweet Pea sighed, just loud enough that Jones would hear.

The moron shoved against Toni, but she gripped his sleeve like she was going to shake Jones down for his lunch money. Stronger than she looked. She was a Serpent, same as the rest of them, after all. Turning her head quickly, long hair whipping over her shoulder, Toni glared at Sweet Pea.

“Don’t push your fucking luck,” she advised.

He spread his hands and smirked like he hadn’t been able to help himself. Toni rolled her eyes and turned back to Jones, whispering to him, probably to keep Sweet Pea from using what she said to fuel his taunts. Whatever. She stepped back from Jones and he slunk away to the other end of the Wyrm. Sweet Pea was almost impressed by the fact that Jones wasn’t dumb enough to leave and mark himself as weak. The thing was that all other feelings Sweet Pea currently had about Jones existed below the barrier of his jealousy regarding one Betty Cooper, so admiration would have to wait.

Toni sat back down once Jones left and Sweet Pea ignored the pissed off stare she was giving him. She could make Jones her problem if she wanted to, but she couldn’t make him Sweet Pea’s. He didn’t say anything to her and eventually she got bored of his silence (as she pretty much always did) and started talking about New Year’s again.

“I mean, I want to go, if you’ll go,” she was saying, “but it might be freezing…”

Sweet Pea’s mind strayed like Hot Dog when they forgot to tie the end of his chain to something. He didn’t care how many layers any of them would have to wear to fight the cold. Somewhere under Betty’s might be the lingerie she’d been wearing the night they met. Oh yeah, he was _definitely_ going to that party.


	4. Midnight at the Twilight

IV

“Who ya lookin’ for?”

Betty whirled around, thankful that winter had hardened the muddy periphery of the Drive-In property. There had yet to be a significant snowfall in their county, but that seemed to dampen people’s holiday spirits less than having their shoes sucked into the dirt would have.

“You, of course.”

Betty smiled at Kevin, trying to look relieved rather than disappointed. He pulled her into a quick hug, then linked their arms, walking her towards the field and the noisy crowd covering it. The temperature had risen over the past couple of days, but Betty would still welcome the extra heat generated by the hundreds gathered there. She’d been dipping into and out of the most densely packed areas all night, looking for someone who, truthfully, wasn’t Kevin.

“Nice of you to wait for me where I could find you,” he started, “but I had hoped that you and I would come together. You know, since Veronica and Archie are back on and you and I are…”

“Single?” Betty offered, giving her friend a confused glance.

“Ugh, I hate that word. As if this state of existence doesn’t suck enough without putting a label on it.”

Betty patted his arm, half-smiling. Suddenly, Kevin stopped short.

“The fence is still up.”

He was staring at the decrepit, slanting chain-link that ran along behind the concession building―also still up, but apparently far less interesting to Kevin. The way he tilted his head to the side made Betty think of a forlorn puppy.

“I had the best kiss of my life against this fence,” Kevin told her solemnly, standing stiffly as though preparing to hold a moment of silence. A pair of girls brushed past them and he darted a dirty look at their backs.

“ _Against_ it?”

He glanced at Betty.

“Nicholas Sparks was probably eating his heart out.”

“I’ll… take your word for it.” She smiled to herself and gave Kevin a gentle tug. They began passing into the fringes. Betty spotted Ethel through a group of people and waved. Ethel waved back, a sparkler in one hand and a hot chocolate in the other.

“Hey, Kev?” she began. “Do you ever―”

Two doofuses from the football team raced by, one piggybacking the other and both screaming their heads off.

“New Year’s Eve, bitches!” one of them shouted to nobody in particular.

“Isn’t nice to get to spend this quality time with our classmates outside of school?” Kevin said tightly in a voice full of forced cheerfulness.

“At least they were heading away from us?” Betty noted, trying to look on the bright side.

“True,” he agreed, then paused, squinting in concentration. “What were you going to ask me?”

“Oh, um, if you ever miss Joaquin. Since you were talking about the fence,” she motioned back behind them.

“Betty!” Kevin stared at her, wide-eyed. “He was an accessory to murder! But yeah, now and then.” He shrugged, smiling in his defeat.

“Do you think things would have worked out between you if not… if not for that?”

Betty was having to raise her voice a little as the Pussycats began warming up on stage. Getting them to do a gig had been a hard sell, but either leftover Christmas goodwill or just plain missing each other had managed to bring Josie, Val, and Melody back together, at least for now. The same afternoon that Josie had called Veronica to confirm their performance, Betty had gotten a severely formal text from Cheryl, RSVPing out of attendance to the party. The two events felt connected, but since the unmasking of the Black Hood, Betty was on hiatus from mystery solving. Besides, if her high-strung newfound cousin wanted to waste her time RSVPing for an open party they hadn’t sent out invitations to, that was Cheryl’s own concern. For once, Betty just wanted to have a good time (while still making sure everything ran relatively smoothly).

“I don’t know,” Kevin answered, expression serious as he leaned his head towards hers to make himself heard. “We had a lot of chemistry. A lot,” he emphasized.

“Ok, jeeze. I get the picture.” Betty laughed.

“On the other hand… I hate to be cliché, but he was a gang member and I’m the Sheriff’s son. I mean, do those narratives ever work out?”

She knew her friend was asking rhetorically, but Betty really considered his question as they tramped around, through, and over (it was dark in the thick of the crowd and a guy was bent down tying his shoe―Betty had to hurdle his back at the last second) everyone they’d be ringing in the new year with. The separation between herself and Sweet Pea wasn’t quite so classic a divide as cop and criminal, yet Betty knew that even her short performance on the pole didn’t do much to smear her good girl image. Should she count this attraction as over before it ever started? Perhaps Kevin _was_ a cautionary tale, with experience dating a real-deal, fully fledged Southside Serpent, but Betty had never been particularly good at taking his advice. And anyway, she’d roped Veronica into cohosting a massive party on one of the biggest holidays of the year just to engineer the mere possibly of an encounter. Anyone would call that committed. Betty kept her eyes open while she thought, searching for one face in particular. Red herrings abounded: there were guys about Sweet Pea’s height (from what she remembered it being) and other Serpents clad in their member jackets. In the dark, almost everyone’s hair looked black until its real colour was revealed by the light of a sparkler.

Eventually, they ran into Archie and Veronica, and though the latter implored her to stay and have fun (it had been hit and run between the girls all evening as Betty kept hurrying off), Betty left Kevin with them and made an excuse about checking on their supply of fireworks. It was a weak one since there wasn’t any place open to buy more fireworks now, but the Pussycats started into their set and Veronica was instantly distracted. Only Kevin kept his attention on Betty long enough to give her a look that was one half _‘Why are you leaving me here to be third wheel?’_ and the other half _‘I know you’re up to something, Betty.’_ She just shrugged and pushed her way back into the mass of friends and strangers as they pressed, cheering, towards the stage.

“Thirty minutes to midnight!” Josie shouted between verses. Betty took a deep breath and walked a little faster.

* * *

So what if he’d had a dream about her? Didn’t mean anything. Sweet Pea frowned at himself in the mirror as he pulled a shirt over his head. It was a new one, from Christmas, and clean, but he’d convinced himself it was just what he’d happened to grab. What would it matter that he was wearing a clean shirt? His jacket would be going over it so no one would see or smell it, not that he wanted anyone to. His subconscious disagreed and the more Sweet Pea tried to focus on his own face, the more he pictured Betty Cooper’s. As he fixed his hair, he gave up on trying to keep her off his mind and gave in to a little theorizing. How was tonight going to go? _Ok_ , Sweet Pea thought, _do your worst, worst case scenario_. His brain obliged. She wouldn’t remember him. Sweet Pea was more often trying to disappear than stand out and maybe that strategy had backfired. First time for everything. He imagined an even worse possibility: that she would actively avoid him. Seeing his face would remind her of the night she got dumped and her mom saw her strip. Worse than the worst, maybe seeing his face would remind her of that asshole Jones. Of _course_ he had to get himself hung up on the only Northside babe who’d already dated a Serpent.

Sweet Pea leaned back from the mirror, took a deep breath, and lowered his hands, realizing he hadn’t spent that much time on his hair since public school picture days. After watching his negative thoughts drag race each other over a finish line of broken glass and self-pity, he was in a pretty bad fucking mood. His phone rang from the dirty bathroom counter. Toni. His greeting was belligerent and the short conversation went downhill from there. The only decent thing Sweet Pea did was let her hang up on him. It looked like he’d just lost his ride.

“Huh,” he said to himself, and gave his phone a flick that sent it spinning in place.

He ended up running. Luckily, Sweet Pea lived in a neighbourhood where seeing a guy in a gang jacket book it past your house after dark was more likely than not. His shoes set a steady beat, smacking the gravelly pavement of the Southside streets, and he noticed his mood improving. By the time he saw the stage lights, he wasn’t even cold. Except now he was here. Alone. No Toni to casually stand beside while he tried to spot Betty. No lounging around waiting for her to come to him. He was just going to have to get over himself and look for her. It was a chance, after all, and maybe the only one coming his way for a while.

The scent of coffee was in the air as Sweet Pea skirted the edges of the crowd, but he was already jittery. He’d shoulder through groups of people and they’d scatter. Probably thought his shakes and anxious eyes were from hard drugs. Well, it got them out of his way, so he wasn’t complaining. The Pussycats were playing, keeping things loud enough for Sweet Pea to focus on the music instead of cycling back through his worst case scenarios, though it jarred him hard when Josie yelled about it being 15 minutes to midnight. His hands curled into fists. He had to find her. _Had_ to. Right after midnight, everyone would be taking off and he’d never even lay eyes on her.

At five minutes to midnight (god, he wished they’d stop reminding him), Sweet Pea ended up back by the concessions. He’d caught sight of Toni, the cop’s kid, and Andrews and his girl. Was Betty sick? How could she not be there? Sweet Pea turned, feeling just pathetic enough that he was planning to find Toni again and ask for a ride home… and there she was.

Sweet Pea wasn’t any Jughead Jones in terms of his relationship with the written word, but he’d spent enough time in school to know what a metaphor was, and that he was looking at one. Betty approached, cheeks pink and smile sweet, from the _other side_ of the chain-link fence that was separating them. He laughed to himself, then stared up at the sky as he quietly groaned.

“What’s so funny?” she asked. She had her hair down like it had been that night at the Wyrm. Sweet Pea liked that.

“I’ll tell you some other time.” He grinned back at her. Betty shrugged and stepped closer to the fence. Sweet Pea stepped closer too.

“What are you doing way out here? The party’s that way,” Betty gestured back over her shoulder.

“And a good one at that,” he nodded to her, his insides seeming to squeeze as he agonized over the compliment. Should he have made it more obvious?

“Thanks.” She smiled and he exhaled in relief. He wondered if everything about this girl was always going to make him this nervous. “You’re probably hearing more of the crowd than the band from here though, why don’t you―”

Whatever song the Pussycats had been playing ended with Josie announcing that their set was done and they were joining the party. Betty and Sweet Pea cracked up, or mostly Betty cracked up and Sweet Pea just stood there and tried to absorb the joy that was coming off her.

“You were saying?” he prompted facetiously. Damn, even getting her to roll her eyes at him felt good.

“Still,” she said, “they’ll probably put somebody’s playlist―”

A quavering Guns N’ Roses intro trickled through the speakers.

“I love this song,” said Betty.

“Not bad,” he allowed, giving her a sly look and a nod that revealed more admiration than his words.

_I’d love to see you dance to this_ , he thought, remembering the way she’d slowly swayed around the pole to ‘Mad World.’

“Seems like you planned this thing too well,” he joked out loud.

“So maybe I should just stop talking.”

Sweet Pea raised his eyebrows and subtly licked his lower lip, wondering if she could actually be flirting with him. Well, she watched his tongue, so that said something. Her fingers hooked through a freezing diamond of chain-link.

“Careful,” he warned, “it’s cold.”

“What are you going to do? Force me to wear your gloves?” Betty gave him a challenging look. Sweet Pea pulled his hands from the pockets of his jacket to show her that they were bare.

“Not tonight, apparently. And I wouldn’t say ‘forced.’ You accepted my jacket.”

“You made me,” she argued, taking her hand from the fence.

“I insisted,” he corrected her.

“How chivalrous,” Betty said, her tone clearly sarcastic.

“How _what?_ ” He gave her a confused look that he didn’t really mean.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Maybe I’m not. You don’t know me, Betty Cooper.” Ah, the old standby defense.

Her eyes lit up.

“I know you’re not dumb, at least.”

“How?”

She looked down, seeming to be embarrassed, and didn’t answer his question.

“So what are _you_ doing way out here?” Sweet Pea didn’t want the conversation to end and if he had to be the one to keep it going, he would, despite the true pleasure it gave him to keep his mouth firmly shut in almost all other situations.

“Just making the rounds.” Betty glanced back up at him and he could tell she was lying.

“This close to midnight?” he asked. In the background, the song hit its first chorus and someone shouted that there were three minutes to go. Sweet Pea pointed in the general direction the update had come from. “See?”

“Yes. I’m just… checking… things.” _Interesting_ , he thought as she fumbled and blushed. “What are _you_ doing?” she came back with.

“You already asked me that,” Sweet Pea pointed out.

“You never answered.”

“Trying to find you,” he heard himself say. Betty’s mouth opened as Toni came ramming into him, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket.

“Jughead just called me. We have to get back. _Now_ ,” she insisted. Sweet Pea willed her head not to turn, but it did. “Oh… Betty. Hey.” The greeting was warm enough… a lot warmer than the look she gave Sweet Pea. This would mean another discussion about him hiding things and his feelings and other stuff he knew he would not enjoy. “I’m going to, uh, pull the car up. I’m not parked far.”

She shoved his arm and took off. Sweet Pea turned back to Betty. It looked like Toni’s sudden arrival and urgent message had thrown her. He knew how she felt. _Shit_ , he thought. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit_. Before his focus (and maybe his sanity) could come back to him, Sweet Pea reached through a jagged gap in the fence and tugged Betty’s hand through. He barely registered that it was icy cold as he pressed his lips to it, then let it fall.

“It’s not where I’d like it to be,” Sweet Pea nodded down at her hand, meaning the kiss, “but maybe I’ll try again next year.”

He put his back to Betty’s stunned face and walked to the road. There were headlights approaching, probably Toni’s. Before he had to look her in the eye and be serious, be angry, be himself, Sweet Pea smiled big and mentally slapped himself on the back.

“ _Five!_ ” the crowd shouted.

“ _Four!_ ”

“ _Three!_ ”

There was a squeaking rattle of metal that made Sweet Pea turn. Betty was jumping down from the top of the fence. Well, he’d be damned. The girl was a little bit Serpent after all.

“ _Two!_ ”

She ran to him.

“ _One!_ ”

“How about now?” she asked and grabbed the front of his jacket, pulling him down to kiss her. Mouth this time. Sweet Pea wrapped his arms tightly around Betty and worked his lips urgently with hers. She kissed like she’d had it ready and he wanted to back her up into the fence and see where that enthusiasm took them. As it was, it was good to just hold her. He’d been surviving too long on the memory of sliding his jacket off her body.

Sweet Pea heard Toni’s car pull up beside him. “Swee―” her yell cut off cleanly when, he assumed, she caught sight of them through her open window.

“I see your ride’s here,” Betty mumbled, her lips brushing his as she pulled away. Sweet Pea gave her a final smirk as his expression turned serious.

“Let’s make this a more frequent thing,” he said bluntly, studying her face.

“Toni has my number,” she said. _And if you want it, you’ve gotta ask for it_ , was what she seemed to be implying, giving him daring eyes.

“Huh,” Sweet Pea replied, like he was only casually considering getting that number. Apparently the game he was playing was one Betty knew too.

“But I don’t always answer,” she said with a coy, one-shouldered shrug.

“Sweet Pea, come _on!_ ” Toni urged from the car. He stuck out his arm and gave her a thumbs up without taking his eyes off Betty.

“Then I’ll have to try at unusual times. When would be most inconvenient for you?” He raised an eyebrow, forcing himself not to smile. “2am? 3?”

“So I can let you keep me up at night?”

“It would only make us even,” Sweet Pea assured her. “Trust me, letting somebody keep you up at night is _not_ a choice.”

He looked hard into her eyes to see that she got it. Yep. Good. It would’ve been nice to kiss her again, but he knew Toni was already pissed that he was making her wait, so Sweet Pea climbed in the car and slammed the door.

“Sleep tight,” he shot at Betty, standing with her hands in her pockets and one hip cocked out while fireworks went off behind her. Sweet Pea threw her a wink as Toni hit the gas.


	5. Enter Jughead

V

It was January 1st, the day after the party, and Betty was feeling good. With unusual consideration that was not likely to extend far into the New Year, her mother had left Betty alone to sleep in after being out so late. Betty had rolled out of bed around 2pm after a deep sleep and a satisfying stretch. She hadn’t been able to stop smiling until it was absolutely necessary in order to take a long drink of water; after running back to Veronica the night before and telling her what had happened, there had been a lot of excited screaming and Betty’s throat was still recovering. Leisurely, she’d wandered back upstairs and checked her phone. Nothing from Sweet Pea, but it really hadn’t been that long. Among the stream of ‘Happy New Year!’ messages, Toni’s request had jumped out at her. Betty had called and been implored to come and take a look at Toni’s car, described by its owner as a piece of crap and probably below Betty’s skill level to tinker with. Having a history of being unable to turn down far less politely made appeals, Betty told Toni she’d be over soon, received by her tentative friend with effusive thanks.

The garage was familiar to Betty after the work she’d done on Reggie’s car for the Serpents vs. Ghoulies drag race. Nevertheless, she experienced a shiver of nervousness approaching the building. Toni hadn’t mentioned anything about the night before during their short phone call, but Betty was sure she’d have an opinion about it, being Jughead’s new right-hand woman and all. Pulling open the outer door, Betty stepped into the vestibule and glanced down as she wiped her shoes carefully on the mat. She took a step forward before raising her head and collided with someone. Apologies ready to pour out, Betty looked into the face of Jughead Jones. Her own face reddened thanks to a complicated tangle of embarrassment, guilt, and awkwardness. The last feeling was one she’d just about convinced herself wouldn’t exist between them anymore, since their few cautious yet friendly post-breakup encounters. Apparently, attempting to conceal a new crush from your ex-boyfriend, while not really consciously realizing you were trying to, came with emotional consequences. They stared at each other for a few seconds, trapped (as it felt to Betty) between the two sets of doors.

“Hey, Betty,” he finally said with a smile that seemed to acknowledge the surprising amount of weirdness between them.

“Hi,” she replied, sighing in relief. That seemed to put them on the right track. “I’m here to see Toni,” Betty explained. “I guess she’s been having some car trouble and is afraid a professional mechanic would take her to the cleaners. She remembered that I helped out the other time.”

“Well, calling you in on this favour is a no-brainer,” Jughead said generously, zipping up his jacket to head outside. “You better get in there.” He wrenched the inner door open for her and Betty started to step through it. “Toni’s popular today.”

“What do you mean?”

“I came to talk to her about… some stuff,” he mumbled evasively, “and Sweet Pea just got here.”

“He did?” A tug-of-war match started up inside Betty’s brain. Her hair was pulled back in a tight knot. But it was clean. She had on a white Henley and an old pair of jeans. But at least she’d left behind the baggy sweatshirt she’d meant to wear. Also good was the fact that she’d applied mascara, careful as always. Also bad was her total lack of emotional readiness to face this situation. Flinging herself spontaneously into a guy’s arms and kissing him was not typical behaviour for Betty. Bare minimum, it called for some kind of follow-up during the subsequent encounter and for once in her life, she had no idea about the next step. She tried to breathe normally.

Jughead’s eyebrows pulled together and he stepped towards her, looking concerned.

“Did he say something to you, Betty? Do something?” he asked, voice low. _Oh no_ , she thought, _he thinks Sweet Pea threatened me. Great. The possessive ex-boyfriend is_ exactly _what this situation needs._

Actively trying to control her nerves about seeing Sweet Pea for _Jughead’s_ sake wasn’t something she’d thought she’d have to do, but Betty bore up. She smiled to look less panicked and shrugged casually.

“Nope. I just hope he doesn’t get in the way. Since Toni asked me to do this for her. And I want to do a good job,” she replied. Stilted, but hopefully believable.

“Sweet Pea’s been acting weird lately,” Jughead said, evidently accepting Betty’s explanation. She remembered when he’d looked harder at her, really trying to understand her, but he had other things on his mind these days. It was funny to feel grateful for that. “Even by my standard of weirdness,” he added with a slight smile.

“Well, I’m just here for the car,” Betty said innocently, shrugging again.

“Right.” Jughead appeared to recall his wandering mind. “Good luck with it.”

“Thanks,” she said. “See you later, Jug.”

“Bye,” he said, adjusting his hat and pushing outside.

The gust of chilly air made Betty hurry into the large bay where Toni’d said she’d be waiting. There was no more time for thinking. No time to compose herself. Betty slipped her coat off and folded it over her arm as she spotted Toni’s back. The girl turned, giving Betty a welcoming smile.

“My saviour!” she called, stepping away from her car.

“I think that might be overstating it a little…” Betty trailed off. There was Sweet Pea, leaning against the side of Toni’s car.

“No way,” Toni waved away Betty’s modesty and ignored the startled look on her face. “Shit,” she said suddenly, halting halfway towards Betty. “I forgot to, um, tell Jughead something.” Toni rushed back and reached through the lowered window of her car, retrieving her Serpents jacket and throwing it on. Betty also noticed her give Sweet Pea a light punch on the shoulder and guessed it hadn’t been meant for her to see. “I’m so sorry Betty,” she apologized as she made for the door. “I don’t know how quickly I’ll be back, but Sweet Pea can tell you the problems with the car. He rides in it enough.”

“That’s alright,” Betty assured her, feeling a little lightheaded at the thought that she was about to be left alone with Sweet Pea. Since it was a holiday, there was nobody else in the shop.

“I owe you one,” Toni said anyway. “Really!” Then she disappeared out the door.

“Something tells me it’s _me_ who owes _you_ ,” Betty muttered under her breath, slowly rotating back towards the car, and Sweet Pea. With no one around, he grinned at her unguardedly, pushing off from the car to stand with his hands buried in his pockets.

“Pathetic, right?” he asked her as she tossed her coat over a wheeled stool. “Have you ever seen such an obvious setup?”

Betty glanced away from him, her cheeks already hot, and got into the car, feeling for the pull that would unlatch the hood. She heard Sweet Pea walk around the front of the car and wished she could say something to him, but her stomach was in a knot that seemed to have also roped in her vocal chords. A second after she popped the hood, Sweet Pea slammed it back down, making the car shake. Betty raised her head in mild annoyance and leaned out of the driver’s side window.

“Do you mind? Toni asked me to come here.”

“She asked me here too. There’s nothing wrong with the car,” Sweet Pea confided, eyes oh-so-serious. “Or, maybe there is, but it’s only because Toni bangs her foot on the gas like she’s driving the getaway car for a bank robbery,” he explained.

Huh. So this meeting wasn’t Sweet Pea’s clumsy orchestration, but Toni’s. That meant Betty could stop feeling that little bit of irritation that had arisen when she’d thought Sweet Pea had made Toni call her because he’d chickened out. It was also reassuring to know that Toni was on their side, or at least on Sweet Pea’s. Still, it didn’t feel right to go back on the promise she’d made to look at the car. It was a good excuse to get Betty and Sweet Pea together, but it sounded to her as if Toni’s ride might still have issues. Betty popped the hood again.

“Has she ever actually done that?” she asked, horrified but curious. Sweet Pea cracked a smile and Betty inwardly swooned at how it transformed his solemn face.

“No. So are you just gonna ignore me then? My information’s good. Not a goddamn thing wrong with this car.” He nodded at the hood, but made no move to slam it down again.

“I told her I’d take a look.” Betty grasped the interior door handle with a sweaty palm and got out of the car. Her hiccupping heart seemed to toss her towards Sweet Pea, yet he stared at her with blatant appreciation as she came towards him. The thought that he might have been looking at her this way while she danced at the Whyte Wyrm was like an electric shock. _Electricity_ , she thought. _Right. Focus on what you’re doing so you don’t electrocute yourself and ruin this… date, or whatever it is._

“If you really want to,” Sweet Pea said, stepping back so she could scan her eyes over the engine.

“Very―”

“Chivalrous?” he interrupted. Keeping her eyes down, Betty bit the inside of her lip, trying not to laugh.

“Sure, Sweet Pea. Chivalrous.” She glanced back over her shoulder at him and he moved closer, gripping the edge of the raised hood and leaning casually next to her. Boy, he sure was tall. Her heart pounding, Betty pushed up her sleeves and turned back to her task.

* * *

Sweet Pea got it now. Organizing this little surprise wasn’t Toni being nice, it was her torturing him. He gazed at Betty with frustration, watching her delicately screw a plastic cap back onto some fucking piece of the car that was getting more attention than he was. When he was a kid, acting on these frustrations had gotten him smacked for being a brat, but any touch of Betty’s would’ve been better than nothing. Still, he couldn’t open his mouth to complain. It was a good quality that Betty showed up and helped somebody out. He personally hoped to benefit from those traits someday soon, though car trouble wouldn’t be the thing he’d get her to help him out with. No way in hell. Sweet Pea shifted so he could run his eyes over Betty’s ass. Was she not feeling what he was feeling? A good half hour they’d been together and no mention of the hot kiss they’d shared. Worse, no movement towards an imminent repeat performance. And they didn’t even have a fucking fence in the way!

“That’s it,” he declared. Betty straightened up, looking confused, and he gestured her back. When her expression turned instantly defiant, Sweet Pea grabbed her by the hips and physically pulled her away so that he could send the hood clanging into place.

“I wasn’t done,” she argued.

“What else was there to do? A custom paint job?”

She rolled her eyes at him and he loved it.

“I want to be thorough.”

 _Yeah, so do I_ , he thought, tracing her features with his eyes. _But not with this car_.

“Toni’s taking advantage of you as it is. If you so much as look under this hood again―” he slapped his palm against the metal, “―I’m going to have to tell her to expect your bill in the mail.”

“You’re very stubborn,” Betty said. He didn’t bother calling her a hypocrite when she crossed her arms snuggly over her chest.

“Oh, I have unbelievable stamina,” Sweet Pea assured her gravely, then felt himself smiling when she blushed. “I say we take it for a test drive, just to be _thorough_.”

“You’re mocking me,” she called, walking to the grubby sink to scrub the dark grime from her hands.

“Never,” he countered, going to open the big bay door. The security system meant it would close automatically when they left. Sweet Pea then threw himself into the driver’s seat and grabbed Toni’s keys off the dash. Betty crossed her arms again when she returned. He knew she’d be expecting to drive, but getting under her skin satisfied him. Besides, he’d been watching her work for ages. Now she could watch him for a while. “Well?” he asked, starting it up. “Get in.” He jerked his head towards the passenger door. Betty gave in, collecting her coat and joining him in the car. As soon as her seatbelt clicked, he gunned it out of the garage.

“And you say Toni drives with a lead foot,” she commented. He grinned, feeling her eyes on him.

“She does. Where do you think she learned it?”

Betty made an exasperated noise and Sweet Pea glanced up at the rear-view mirror, catching her eye. A wink got her smiling. He made a few turns that took him onto side roads marked 50mph. 65 felt nicer. Catching a glimpse of Betty’s face out of the corner of his eye told him it was worth it. He took one hand off the wheel and laid it on the back of Betty’s headrest. Her hand lifted and for an overeager second Sweet Pea thought she might put it on his leg, but no such luck, she just smoothed her coat across her lap.

Eventually, Sweet Pea slowed down, guiding the car to a worn dirt shoulder about a concession outside Riverdale’s limits. He stopped and twisted the key out, some stupid combination of words in his mouth that he didn’t end up needing because Betty leaned over and kissed him as soon as he turned his head. Sweet Pea banged his hand into the back of her seat by accident in his haste to hold her neck and Betty jumped. She drew away a little and he snatched the coat out of her lap and shoved it to the backseat. When she caught his eye, Sweet Pea could practically taste the adrenaline. He reached over, grabbing her knee and Betty did the rest, maneuvering across the console and into his lap.

“I’m not―I don’t normally do this,” she said, palms resting on his chest on the other side of his Serpents jacket. The next second, the back of his seat reclined, giving Sweet Pea a jolt of freefall.

“Apparently,” he said sarcastically, raising his eyebrows.

Betty smiled guiltily, seeming to realize her words and her actions weren’t really lining up. Sweet Pea didn’t mind. He laid a hand on her lower back, pressing her against him, and they kissed for a good long while until the fact that they were in Toni’s car came back to Betty and―unfortunately, by Sweet Pea’s assessment―corrected her behaviour. He drove her home, replacing his hand on her headrest. Betty even laid her palm on his leg this time, though she removed it to point out her house. Right next to Archie Andrews’, Sweet Pea saw, remembering the night of the rainy brawl. He knew Betty and Archie were in the same circle, but there was nothing he could do about them being next door neighbours. Jealousy was an unnerving sensation, especially when it came out of nowhere. He wondered if he should ask Betty straight out about being his girlfriend, but she was already getting out of the car.

“I hope Toni’s happy,” Betty said, coming around to talk to Sweet Pea through his window. “With the car,” she clarified. Sweet Pea smirked.

“I’ll tell her I had to drag you off it.” He watched Betty’s chest heave in response.

“Anyway,” she said, glancing towards her house, “it should run better now.”

“It was never about the car, Betty,” Sweet Pea told her again. “But I’d say you did a very satisfying job.”

She raised an eyebrow, getting a look in her eye that he was beginning to like.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” she replied provocatively, and walked away from him.

Sweet Pea tapped the horn twice, grinning and shaking his head to himself as he drove away.


	6. High School Knockout

VI

Sweet Pea had to tuck his late afternoon memory of kissing beautiful Betty Cooper away to protect it from the harsh florescence and noisy, conspicuous drug deals of the Southside High cafeteria. It was the first day back since winter break and every generic-cleaning-fluid-scented detail was like a kick in the teeth (and he knew from experience). Being around the girl― _his_ girl, maybe―had spoiled him, he could see that now, making daily life a slog through graffiti-lined trenches. Sweet Pea wasn’t very hungry, but he picked at his sandwich, keeping a hand on it whenever he set it down between bites. You had to defend your food in a place like this. It would have been easier to get through Monday blocking Betty from his thoughts, but he had one reminder sitting next to him and another on that reminder’s other side; it hadn’t taken long for Toni to realize that seating herself between Sweet Pea and Jughead at lunch cut the number of Serpent squabbles in half. Sweet Pea remembered the days when he’d _wanted_ Jones at their table, just so they could keep tabs on him and where he stood with his affiliations. Now, he kinda wished he’d retracted the olive branch and let the Ghoulies jump Jones on day one.

“Charles Bukowski,” the pain in the ass commented out of nowhere. Sweet Pea glanced sideways and saw Jones leaning forward around Toni, apparently directing the words at him.

“What do you want?” He made his voice creep along, slow enough to be threatening to those who knew him well. This particular character did not make the list.

“Your sandwich.” Jones pointed and Sweet Pea wanted to snap his finger. “Ham on rye. It’s the title of a novel by Charles Bukowski.”

“Jones, you better learn to start reading people as well as you read books.” He turned his head to deliver an impenetrable stare. Still too arrogant for his own good, going to class in a place where having lived among the Northsiders for even a day meant he’d always be the new kid, Jones just held up his palms and looked at Sweet Pea like he was acting nuts.

“Dude, chill.”

Jones’s eyes went from Sweet Pea’s face to the table, where the latter noticed he was gripping a piece of cheap plastic cutlery (the staff weren’t quite clueless enough to hand out sharp metal objects to the student body). He loosened his grip like it was no big deal, nothing to see here―Jones’s soothing surfer lingo had drawn the gaze of every Serpent at their table, plus that of anyone in the near vicinity. Captain Beanie just had no fucking respect since the Peabody Incident.

“How ‘bout you just eat your lunch and try not to choke on it?”

“Sweet Pea, what the hell?” Toni gave him a fierce look. Ok, maybe he _was_ acting nuts. At least one of his dining companions could recognize a threat when they heard it.

“I don’t know what your problem is, Sweet Pea,” Jones said quietly, angled once again around Toni, “but we don’t really need any dissent in the ranks right now.” He shoved back from the table, grabbing up his bag and jerking his head at Toni. She started to rise as well, clearly ready to leave with Jones.

“He thinks he’s better than you too, you know,” Sweet Pea said, catching her eye as she untangled herself from her seat.

“Just shut the hell up,” she hissed back. She’d said those words to him before, but in her eyes… it looked like he might have actually hurt her feelings. Sweet Pea felt a sense of possession scaling the inside of his chest like a mountain climber hauling himself up with metal picks as Toni began to walk after Jones. He shouldn’t. He needed her as an ally. As a friend.

“You know she’s not your girlfriend, right?” he called out. Jones stopped, his back going rigid where his daddy’s jacket used to be. He half-turned, waiting while the room got a little (ominously) quieter. “I just wanted to let you know,” Sweet Pea continued, “in case that’s how you’ve been consoling yourself since―”

The strap of Jones’s satchel slipped from his shoulder, hitting the speckled linoleum with a _thunk_. Toni made a grab for his arm, which gratified Sweet Pea because he knew it meant she thought her puppy was going to lose. She’d never tried to hold _him_ back from a fight. Jones approached him at a sped up saunter, cocked his arm and hurled his fist into Sweet Pea’s cheek. It knocked Sweet Pea back into the guy sitting next to him. There was no reason for letting Jones get the first punch―like Betty had told him the night they met, she’d been single by the time Sweet Pea made his advances―but truthfully, he’d felt like she was his from the moment he’d seen her dance. That made a few minutes of overlap between Betty being his and this sonofabitch’s, and now they were all squared up. Sweet Pea stood, taking a half step back. Probably looked defensive, but he had longer arms and could swing at Jones from further away.

“Bukowski, huh?” Sweet Pea mocked. “You know they make movies about boxing too. You ever seen _Rocky_?” He faked a hook and drove his fist into Jones’s stomach.

The guy didn’t fall well, but Sweet Pea decided to wait him out while he got back to his feet. Kicking Jones while he was down was just bad form. Without blocking his line of sight, Sweet Pea touched the back of his hand to his face, wincing at the screaming pain that seemed to spark an inch or two under his eye and race up his cheekbone. The idea that this was the stupidest shit he’d pulled all year occurred to him, and he was forcing it back when Betty’s face once again came to mind. Was it really _Jones_ he meant to accuse of thinking they were better than him? What did it matter to him if Jones wanted to act and talk like a snob? It was Betty he was afraid of not being good enough for, not the outsider kid of F.P. By the time Jones was on his knees, winded and getting slowly to his feet, Sweet Pea didn’t feel like hitting him anymore. Which was probably a sign he should actually talk to him. Which _sucked_.

He stuck out his hand and saw Toni jump forward. She must have assumed he was going to lash out again and it felt good to give her a look like there was something wrong with her. What else was he gonna do in front of most of the school? Apologize? Very few people ever heard his words of regret, and even fewer heard him explain himself. Sweet Pea might have just blown the silent menace thing he had going on by provoking and pummeling Jones in front of an audience, but he could still keep some things private. Jones eyed him for long seconds before letting Sweet Pea help him to stand. Boos went up all around as their unentertained peers returned to sad lunches and the two boys strode from the cafeteria, Sweet Pea motioning to Toni that she should stay behind. He’d fix things with her later.

In an eerily deserted hallway where the lights flickered like a horror movie, Sweet Pea banged the side of his fist against a Coke machine whose glory days were long past. The thing coughed out chipped ice like it was spitting broken teeth. Sweet Pea dug through his bag and sacrificed his grey gym shirt to the cause, giving the hem a yank with his teeth and tearing it in two. He filled each scrap with ice, handing one off to Jones, who unsnapped his denim jacket to hold the soaking sack against his abdomen. Sweet Pea shifted his own sorry excuse for an icepack between his throbbing cheekbone and his knuckles―Jones’s stomach hadn’t been as soft as he’d expected. Even injured, they sized each other up, Sweet Pea leaning against the wall while Jones stood stiffly about a foot away from it, apparently unwilling to sit and seem submissive. Finally, Sweet Pea sat first, sliding his back down the wall and keeping his eyes locked on Jones until he sat as well, bending his knees up in front of him.

“This was a good one,” Sweet Pea complimented, removing the ice from his face and pointing at where Jones had hit him.

“Uh, thanks,” Jones replied hesitantly. “I’ve wanted to punch you basically since the moment I met you.”

Sweet Pea snorted, squishing the wet cloth against his cheek while cold water ran out of it and down his neck.

“You hide it pretty well.”

“Not really.” Jones pulled his hat down his forehead a little. “You just mostly ignore it because you know that, physically, I’m not a threat to you.”

Sweet Pea squinted at him, annoyed at the implication that Jones thought that _he_ thought there were other ways Jones might be a threat.

“Which makes me wonder, actually,” Jones went on, “why did you let me hit you? I’m not so delusional that I think I got that shot in thanks to pure skill.”

Breathing in and out deeply, Sweet Pea moved the ice down to his hand, flexing his fingers. Well, maybe he could get out of that History quiz they had that afternoon. He cut his eyes over to Jones.

“I’m seeing Betty.”

“Betty?” Jones’s confusion hurt worse than his punch.

“ _Cooper_ ,” he emphasized, keeping his chin up. Did the dickhead really not think the same girl he’d used to date could be interested in him?

“You’re seeing Betty.”

“Yeah, dimwit.” Sweet Pea was still waiting for a reaction. All his organs felt like they were tensing up. Then Jones’s face changed. He looked furious. Then a little sick. Sweet Pea didn’t know if he was about to get yelled at or puked on. Maybe it had been a bad idea to hit him in the stomach.

“In what capacity?”

Sweet Pea’s eyes swept incredulously from side to side.

“I’m not her favourite fucking cashier at the grocery store.”

“So you’re―” Jones started, the colour in his face levelling off.

“Yep.”

“With my―”

“Uh huh.”

Jones leaned away from the wall so he could openly stare at Sweet Pea, who figured the time had come for a cocky grin. The ex-boyfriend didn’t like that much.

“Do you have no… no sense of honour?” he spluttered.

Sweet Pea gave him a dead stare and slowly raised his hand to point at his swelling cheek.

“Ah,” Jones said in epiphany. “Hard to argue with that.” His shoulders relaxed then stiffened again. “Though, you know what? No. I’m still not ok with this.”

“I’m not asking you to be.” Sweet Pea raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was a ‘too bad, sucker’ gesture.

Jones looked at him, clearly in discomfort, frowning and gripping his knee with the hand not holding a shirt full of melting ice.

“So this is what I missed at New Year’s.” He kept his mouth tightly shut for at least half a minute. “This is a dick move, you know that right?”

“Depends on your perspective,” Sweet Pea countered. “It’s not like we’re friends. Betty and I might have gotten together even if I didn’t know you.”

“If you didn’t know me, you wouldn’t know her either,” he argued, looking smug.

“Our paths may have crossed.”

“Only if she happened to hit you with a car.”

Sweet Pea’s forehead crunched down towards his nose and his eyes drew up tight as he turned a hostile face to Jones. The shithead did his emotionless, wax museum look, waiting before reacting. Sweet Pea started to laugh softly, resting his head back against the wall.

“You’re behaving a little too chaotically right now for me to venture telling you that you don’t deserve her,” Jones began. Sweet Pea’s laughter died. How could Jones so easily find and prod the thing that made him feel most afraid? “But I know _I_ didn’t deserve her.”

They shared a long look that was tranquil on the surface and bareknuckle combative underneath. Jones hadn’t totally given her up, Sweet Pea could see that, except in words, the way that should’ve counted most with the goddamn bookworm. Right now, he was in limbo between the righteous faux-Northsider he’d been and the depraved Southsider he was on track to become, lacking either the entitlement that told him Betty _should_ be his or the blind will that said she _would_ be. Well, those were Jones’s issues. Sweet Pea’d never have to make peace with being a Serpent because that’s what he was. It was more permanent than the tattoo on his neck. And so was his resolve to have what Jones couldn’t, and not because it was Jones who couldn’t, but because he, Sweet Pea, _could_.

The bell rang, telling them to head to class and prepare to be underwhelmed; they stood, Jones grunting from the blow to his stomach. They didn’t shake hands or anything, but when Jones started to turn away, heading in the opposite direction, Sweet Pea didn’t sucker punch him in the side of the head, and really, what could be fairer than that?

* * *

“ _Oh-oh here she comes_ ,” came a sung whisper by Betty’s left ear. Startled, she spun and found herself face to face with Kevin. “ _Watch out boy, she’ll chew you up_ ,” he continued as Betty laughed and rolled her eyes. He sidled up next to her and they walked down the hall together. Very unsubtly, he made a point of looking her up and down.

“It’s just something I’m trying out,” Betty explained.

She figured she’d given the idea of a wardrobe update long enough to ferment in her mind that it was time to do something about it. Yesterday, the first day back, Betty had chickened out at the last minute and swathed herself in comforting pastels, but today she’d been brave enough to pull out some of the new things she’d bought: the blackest of black jeans and a dark sweater that draped lazily off one shoulder. She didn’t want to announce that the outer change was happening alongside an inner one―which seemed to have begun the night she met Sweet Pea, she couldn’t deny it―but even without words, it was hard to keep things from her closest friends.

“Oh, I know _all_ about the things you’re trying out,” he replied, light on explanation and heavy on suggestiveness. Betty jerked her head back to frown at him in confusion and alarm.

“Kevin, not so loud!” It was Veronica, who had popped up on Betty’s right when she’d turned to confront Kevin. When had her friends become so stealthy?

Betty turned her face slowly towards Veronica’s, shaping her expression into a sort of surprised annoyance. Kevin could only be gloating because he knew about her big kiss with Sweet Pea at New Year’s. Betty hadn’t told him about it (not that she _never_ would, the right moment just hadn’t presented itself yet), but she _had_ told Veronica.

“I’m waiting,” she said calmly, raising her eyebrows, though the corners of her mouth rose as well, tipping Veronica off that she wasn’t _that_ mad.

“Well, how was I supposed to know you hadn’t told Kevin?!” Veronica burst out.

“Told him what?” Archie inquired, slinging an arm around his girlfriend’s waist and hitching the strap of his backpack over his shoulder.

“Nothing!” the other three said in unison. Kevin’s tone was calm, Betty’s was distinctly the opposite, and Veronica’s was decidedly teasing, telling Betty that she’d need to take V aside and demand she not share this with Archie later.

The redhead looked at them with suspicion, but Veronica leaned up and kissed him quickly on the cheek. Betty sighed indulgently and took the pair of friends bookending her by their elbows, pulling them away to stand against the wall, out of the morning flow of student traffic. Archie understood and moved off down the hallway on his own.

“So the questions about dating a Serpent weren’t purely theoretical then, huh Betty?” Kevin jumped in before Betty could admonish her friends. At least he’d lowered his voice.

“We’re just… seeing how it goes so far.”

“Which is how?” Veronica inquired, never one to shy from a probing question. Her eyes locked with Betty’s. “Come on, B! Give me something!” She grabbed Betty’s forearm and shook lightly, playfully, while shooting her a pleading smile. Betty had to smile back.

“Well. We’ve only seen each other once since New Year’s Eve, but we’ve been keeping in touch,” she divulged, waving her phone illustratively. Kevin made an excited _ooh_ ing sound that Betty had to shush.

“It’s too bad it’s so hard for you guys to see each other,” Kevin sympathized. “I remember what that was like.”

“I can’t imagine not being able to see Archie every day,” Veronica added. “Even if I _do_ have to shoo him away from private conversations.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” said Betty, shrugging optimistically and glancing between her friends. “I think my relationship with Jughead would have probably benefited from a little more time apart.”

Veronica opened her mouth, but Kevin gave her a stern look.

“They’ve been smoothing things over. We’re not supposed to criticize him to her face anymore,” he lectured the dark-haired girl. Betty groaned in noninterfering irritation. “The thing is, Betty,” Kevin shifted his eyes back to her face, “well, two things. First of all, and I say this with the utmost affection, what you’re saying is bullshit. There’s nothing that would have improved your relationship with Jughead except for Jughead himself. Second of all, you’ve only had one boyfriend. You can’t expect this guy to want the same things the last guy wanted.”

“With one or two obvious exceptions,” Veronica tossed out, raising her eyebrows. Betty looked quickly away from her, not ready to have _that_ sort of discussion at school.

“Just consider,” Kevin calmly suggested, “that maybe the new guy doesn’t _want_ to be apart from you.”

Betty did consider it. A little then, a little between classes, and a whole lot more when Weatherbee’s voice boomed over the intercom, informing them all that Riverdale High was about to become the new home of certain Southside students. There was nobody to confirm it, but Betty had a feeling she knew who that group would include.


	7. Learning Curve

VII

It was a brave new world, like the book he’d just been assigned in his English class. As far as Sweet Pea was concerned, this Aldous Huxley guy knew what was up, just from the title alone. When they gave you a book at Riverdale High, no matter the class, there were enough copies for everyone and nobody’s looked like it’d had a past life as a coaster at the Whyte Wyrm. Even stranger, they were actually expected to read them―Sweet Pea almost felt like swinging by some of his old teachers’ houses and blowing their minds with this information. Everything was squeaky clean here: floors, trophy classes, the faces of the preppiest bunch of snobs he’d ever seen; the relocated Serpents were like a stray, clumpy dust bunny that none of the janitors could manage to sweep away. Sweet Pea found he didn’t mind being dust. It wasn’t like at Southside, where you’d break a guy’s nose for looking at you wrong. The Bulldogs in particular kept pulling shit like banging the Serpents’ shoulders when they passed in the hall, but after the first week or so, Sweet Pea and the others basically accepted it. It wasn’t so hard, really, because they knew no one was trying too diligently to pacify the spoiled brats and as long as the Serpents didn’t react, they were untouchable. Sweet Pea had actually taken to smiling at anyone who targeted him. It seemed to piss people like Reggie off even more after they’d given Sweet Pea a shove and found he wasn’t easily moved against his will.

Between taking crap and groaning over homework assignments, there was the best thing, which was Betty. Sweet Pea couldn’t keep any sort of distance from her since just being in the same building as she was felt like living life in a parallel universe. Like, a better one, where they could’ve grown up together with him being the boy-next-door instead of Andrews. Those were the kind of thoughts he never confided to _anyone_. Walking down the hall towards Betty’s locker felt like walking on the surface of the moon; his feet didn’t hit the ground so hard anymore and sometimes, when she turned around, saw him coming, and smiled, it was even tough to breathe. Something was off with her, but Sweet Pea figured she was just adjusting too and was willing to wait it out. There were days, more and more frequently, when she got that look in her eye that, based on past occurrences, meant good news for him, but so far he was still waiting to get dragged into an empty classroom to make out, or show up to find her dressed like that chick from _Grease_.

In between those days, Sweet Pea stuck with his own kind. Mainly, that meant getting teased by them for the way he was chasing Betty Cooper. Jughead always tuned out with a scowl, but even Toni had gotten into discussing Sweet Pea’s love life with her puppy in earshot. Some of the guys were the type to get embarrassed about that stuff, but Sweet Pea was proud as hell. He knew they were jealous. While they’d been at Southside High, he’d hid his interest in Betty. Now, Jughead knew and Sweet Pea was guessing Betty’s friends did too, judging by the curious looks he got from the Sheriff’s kid whenever he swung by to talk to Fangs. He wished Betty would sit with them sometimes, but they weren’t at that point yet. She wasn’t even his _girlfriend_ yet. That was a problem Sweet Pea was putting some serious thought into, and slowly striping the couch in the lounge of its loose threads while in the depths of his contemplation. _Any day, though_ , he’d think. _Any day._

* * *

It was Veronica who pushed them together, in a way. Betty wanted to cling to her friend―suddenly a bundle of nerves at the thought of encountering Sweet Pea alone in hallways and classroom lately used for daydreaming about him―but Veronica was too busy to babysit. She was planning a dance, the latest scheme in her benevolent strategizing to bring the North and South together under the single roof of Riverdale High. Predictably, Cheryl was making every effort to thwart Veronica, not that it was doing much good. V had the administration’s approval and her own conviction on her side. In between classes, she toyed with ideas about theme, decorations, details, and more with martial seriousness, turning the inside of her locker door into a tiny magnetic war room. Betty thought that planning a dance would be a perfect fit for her anxious desire to avoid Sweet Pea… except that Veronica wouldn’t let her help. For whatever reason, she had taken dictatorial control of the project, though she kept Betty separate from it with kind words. Betty didn’t need kind words, she needed an escape route from her own feelings!

Shockingly to Betty, Sweet Pea accosted her at every opportunity, and it wasn’t only the fading bruise on his cheek that startled her. Something had changed, and she didn’t know if it was his relationship with Jughead (they were rarely seen together unless the entire Serpent group was present) or just an instinct not to be humbled in a new environment, but he was bolder. It didn’t matter what time she went to switch her books or stow her sweater, he would be there, his shoulder leaning against the bank of lockers and his eyes on her, as intense as ever; the look Sweet Pea gave Betty made her shiver and she had to keep fighting that in case he tried to give her his jacket again. She just didn’t know what to do with so much attention, the sincerity and constancy of it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to welcome their new students with open arms, or that being seen with this one in particular was in any way embarrassing or wrong, it was more that Betty couldn’t figure out the boundaries. She and Jughead (in public, and often in private as well) had been a shy couple. Betty had thought that was just who she was. Now, she had experiences stripping and making out on somebody’s lap in a car to argue the opposite side. It was possible, she was realizing, that the limits she’d thought she had didn’t actually exist. She hadn’t been trying to dodge Sweet Pea because she wasn’t interested. The thing was, she might’ve been _too_ interested.

Someone taking up a much smaller segment of her mind was Jughead. Betty could have sworn she was almost seeing less of him now than she had when he’d been attending Southside High. When she did spot him and start pep-talking herself up to a friendly greeting, he invariably either appeared lost in brow-furrowing concentration or hastily exited whatever room or hallway she’d just joined him in. Betty got the picture: she was involved in a bizarre warping of hide-and-seek wherein Sweet Pea sought her and she sought Jughead, though the motivations of the players differed. And it seemed like, whatever game they were playing, Sweet Pea was winning. He took what he could get. Talks at her locker where he said more with his stare than his words. Private smiles sent across classrooms that seemed so obviously to stand in for ‘do you like me? Check yes or no’ notes. Without a doubt, Betty was beginning to let her guard down, but what was left to stand between their suppressed flirtations and total surrender that might see them hot and heavy on a couch à la Veronica and Archie the week before? After a face-reddening encounter, during which Betty stepped back from her locker and ended up right against Sweet Pea, who’d come to see her, she _begged_ Veronica to let her help with the dance during her free period. Finally, more out of harried distraction than pity, Veronica said yes.

For once able to focus on something besides the memory of Sweet Pea’s low voice, Betty carried a box of decorations to the gym on the day before the dance, her heeled boots clicking down empty hallways. Not one of her three closest friends had the same empty slot in their timetable, so Betty typically spent that time alone in the library or student lounge. Walking the nearly-silent halls was a nice change and should have provided a good opportunity to run through any other ways she might be able to help Veronica before the dance. She was definitely _trying_ to concentrate on that and not on Sweet Pea’s schedule, which she was familiar with because he was always letting her know which class he was off to. If she’d allowed herself to focus on _that_ , Betty would’ve needed to admit that she might have had an ulterior motive for completing this particular task at this particular time. Instead, even as she approached the gym doors, she attempted to hear only her own tapping footsteps and ignore the squeaking of running shoes coming from inside.

She stared down into the contents of the box without seeing them as she pushed the door open and entered, interrupting a gym class. Betty looked up, heart beating hard. A boy’s gym class. Sweet Pea’s gym class. Like she’d known it would be. They were playing basketball. Shirts vs. skins. For a second, Betty was almost relieved that, now, she’d be able to stop imagining Sweet Pea with his shirt off, because there he was, before her very eyes. The heavy door thumped shut behind her and his gaze met hers without hesitation―even as he continued to dribble the ball outside of his opponent’s reach and his teammates called for a pass. Gripping hard at the box in her hands, Betty felt much more than friendly interest. It took a few seconds of checking him out (with the recognition and acceptance of the fact that he knew she was checking him out), his shoulders, his chest, his hips, before Betty could make herself move, circling the gym’s perimeter with the crystalline certainty that Sweet Pea was still looking at her. She wasn’t able to glance at him again. After she left the gym, having immediately forgotten about the box and wherever she’d deposited it inside, she stopped, took a deep breath, and acknowledged that something had just changed.

* * *

“Sweet Pea!” Fangs yelled after him.

“Sub me out!” he replied, absentmindedly waving a hand back towards his friend.

“Where are you going?” Fangs persisted, half-turning his attention back to the game that was still in play around him.

“Uh, water,” Sweet Pea explained, though his bottle stood just outside the court lines, same as everybody else’s.

Since he’d convinced the North- and Southsiders to channel their aggression for each other into team sports instead of scuffling fights, their gym teacher had quit caring about whatever else they did. Sweet Pea hadn’t tested the limits of that apparent free pass yet, but no one tried to stop him as he banged out the door of the gym. Blonde hair flashed in front of him. He hadn’t expected Betty to still be here.

Warm from playing and jumpy with adrenaline, Sweet Pea immediately wrapped his arms around Betty and kissed her. She breathed in sharply and pulled him closer, right when he was wondering if he should let go. Her hands ran up his arms and he smiled against her mouth. He guided her in a careful half-circle so that he didn’t have to stop kissing her for even a second and shuffled her back until she was pressed to the wall, their feet alternating in a line on the shiny linoleum. The consensus between his brain and other interested areas was, _Finally._ As if he couldn’t help it, Sweet Pea kept gathering her forward in his arms until he could hold her body tightly to his. Betty’s hands were more cautious, light like paper. She knew what she was doing with her mouth though.

Minutes passed and nobody came to get him, but not screwing up at this school meant getting more time with Betty, so Sweet Pea eventually made himself back away from her, eyes on her darkened lips.

“Are you going to the dance?” was the first thing he came up with, recognizing that he should actually speak when what he _wanted_ to do was continue kissing her.

“I’m―I’m helping organize it,” she stumbled out, pushing away from the wall and skirting around him with a giddy-looking smile.

“So… yes?” He watched her, turning as she orbited around him. She laughed.

“Yes,” Betty clarified. “I love to dance,” she added. Sweet Pea raised an eyebrow and watched her face go red. Didn’t take much to prompt that memory, it seemed. “Are… are you―”

The door flew open and a hand grabbed his shoulder.

“Get back in here! We can’t lose to them!” Fangs said, then noticed Betty standing a few feet away and grinned back and forth between them, while Sweet Pea clenched his jaw, signalling that Fangs had better keep his mouth shut. His buddy retreated, holding up his palms for pardon. When he was gone, Sweet Pea turned to Betty.

“They can’t do shit without me.” He shrugged. Arrogant, he knew, but he was working to get out from under the idea that she was too good for him. Better to play it too far in the other direction, he thought.

“Well,” she said, still looking flustered, “you better get in there. Go, um,” her gaze dropped to the naked top half of his body, “skins.”

The girl was making him feel as anxious as she looked, so when she started to walk away, Sweet Pea jogged after her and kissed her again, holding her face between his hands.

“I’m going,” he assured her. “To your dance.” Betty beamed.

“You better be.” She poked his chest, glancing from her finger up to his eyes.

“Oh,” Sweet Pea joked, “there you are.”


	8. Taking Chances

VIII

“He _didn’t_ ask you?”

Betty glanced over her shoulder at Veronica as they descended the stairs at the Cooper house, thinking her friend’s tone was unfairly incredulous. She sighed.

“I had just interrupted his gym class. He probably wasn’t really thinking about it.”

V gave her shoulder a little shove, setting Betty moving again.

“So you should have asked _him_ , B,” she insisted.

Kevin, ahead of the girls, reached the main floor first, allowing him to turn and give Betty a _listen to Veronica_ look, complete with raised eyebrows. Betty groaned.

“I couldn’t.”

She brushed past Kevin, leading her friends into the dining room. Her parents had very obligingly made themselves scarce so that Betty could have this time to get ready for the dance with Veronica. Kevin had driven over while they were doing their makeup and joined them up in Betty’s room, where progress had slowed to a crawl and Betty had to keep dodging their questions about Sweet Pea. By now, they were past being put off, but at least all three of them were dressed and ready to go. Betty pulled out a chair and sat, wondering if there was anything to be done to end the interrogation and get them on the road to the dance. Kevin took the seat beside her, studying her face with disconcerting intensity.

“Why not?”

“I had a lot on my mind! I was thinking about―”

“Were you kissing him?” Veronica jumped in, gripping the back of Betty’s chair. Betty, typically eloquent, found herself stammering.

“Anything longer than an instant response time is an official Betty Cooper confirmation,” Kevin declared. Betty narrowed her eyes at him.

“Not fair.”

The doorbell rang, sparing Betty the need to start shoveling out of the grave she’d dug herself. _Speaking of shovels and graves_ , she thought, opening the door. It was Archie, semi-formal in a nice suit and tie. Betty eyed him with a smile, giving her friend a nod of approval.

“Very nice,” she remarked.

“Thanks,” he answered, relaxing a little out of the stiffened posture that so often imposed itself on teens in suits. “I thought Ronnie was going to insist on a boutonnière or something,” Archie confided, lowering his voice, “but she’s been really chill.”

“And stressed out over every _other_ detail to do with this dance,” Betty added, laughing. “Come on in, Arch.”

He joined her in the foyer and in a few moments Kevin and Veronica drifted in, shrugging warm layers over their dance attire. Everything was set at Riverdale High. Veronica had micromanaged decorating earlier in the day and been persuaded to hand off the actual running of the event to a handful of extracurricular-enthused teachers. They were home free. Just had to show up. Betty smiled around at her friends and squeezed past them, calling out to her mom that they were heading out and not to wait up. Responsible girl that she was, Betty always took her own key.

The four of them trooped out to Kevin’s dad’s car (the one without the sirens), the girls watching where they stepped with their heels. Betty settled into the passenger seat, placing her purse on her lap, while Archie and Veronica shared the back. As they drove to the school, they all chatted energetically, succumbing to pre-dance jitters and excitement. When Betty swiveled around in her seat to respond to a particular comment of Veronica’s, she noticed her two friends holding hands and thought it was sweet. She was grateful that they could be happy together and had reunited so easily after their disagreement at the Whyte Wyrm; Betty hadn’t wanted to pry for details. Selfishly, she was glad that the negativity between herself and Jughead that night hadn’t been enduringly contagious. More like a 24-hour flu.

They parked in the student lot and the group strolled into the school together, Kevin―ever the gentleman―taking Betty’s hand under his arm while she laughed and nudged him with her elbow. They paused while Veronica whipped her phone out to document the decorations by the entrance. Betty figured if her friend observed the décor more through her phone screen than with her eyes directly, she’d be less likely to spot a flaw and distract herself from having a good night, so she was as patient as could be. Many of their classmates flowed past and compliments were exchanged back and forth regarding hair, shoes, manicures… anything that was uncovered by winter wear. Betty could see the turnout was increasing Veronica’s good spirits. Inside, the coat check went smoothly, but when Betty finished before the others, she spotted Jughead lingering down the hall.

“Hey, stranger,” she said softly when she’d approached him. She held her clutch in front of her with both hands and couldn’t fail to notice that Jughead wasn’t dressed up in the slightest. Sure, he’d never been one to go overboard for the sake of school spirit or conformity, but Betty knew the difference between that and his not making an effort at all. “A little underdressed, aren’t you?”

“I’m not staying,” he replied, then tacked on, “Sorry.”

“Your time is your own, Jug. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

It felt weird. Why was it getting weird? Oh right, because of how he’d been evading her in this very building for the past two weeks. Why show up tonight? Why not run from her the way he had been lately? Betty tried to set these questions aside in her mind so she wouldn’t bombard him with them. He wasn’t her boyfriend anymore. It was ok to be uninvolved.

“Sweet Pea’s here,” he told her. Judging by the look on Jughead’s face, this was the chase he’d been wanting to cut to ever since she walked over. Did he know? Betty took a breath before responding.

“I’m glad that we’ll have Southside representation,” she said casually. “The whole point of tonight is to help everyone start getting along better, after all. I’m sure Veronica will be happy that her efforts weren’t wasted. She’s been at this 24/7,” Betty babbled. Jughead’s face barely changed, like he was just waiting her out. _Oook then_ , she thought, and stopped talking.

“He’s here for you.” The way he said it sounded to Betty like he was pushing a heavy weight off his chest. She felt her own get lighter and reminded herself that this was not the time to smile. This was not the person to celebrate with. “There’s no other reason,” Jughead went on. “So if you’re not interested, let him know.” His eyes met hers cautiously. “I’ve noticed that, with Sweet Pea, the more stubborn he gets about something, the thicker his skull becomes, so it’s better to head him off early.”

“Right,” Betty said, watching her ex-boyfriend warily. Jughead shifted from foot to foot and looked past Betty’s shoulder. She assumed her other friends were standing nearby, wondering what the hell was going on. Their meeting must look awfully clandestine indeed if even Archie was keeping his distance.

“I’m not in a position to―” Jughead stopped himself, looked down and back up. “I don’t want to know anything about it besides the fact that you’re happy, ok?”

“Ok,” she agreed, still a little stunned. “Take care of yourself, Jug.” She meant it and the time felt right to say it. Betty knew she’d still see him around, maybe even talk to him now and then, but this conversation felt like… closure.

He gave her a brief smile and took off down the hall, in the opposite direction from the decorations. Betty returned to her friends, shaking her head to clear away the weirdness.

“Everything alright?” Archie asked, always playing the big brother. Betty nodded.

They headed for the gym, but she grabbed Veronica’s hand at the last second and motioned towards the girls’ washroom. While the boys went on ahead of them, Betty and Veronica swung open the door to an empty row of stalls. Leaving V to peer critically at her flawless appearance, Betty picked a stall and pulled a pair of fishnet tights out of her clutch, sliding them on over fastidiously shaved legs. She’d return her bag to the coat check afterwards, but this was essential. Betty stepped out and Veronica caught her reflection in the mirror and whistled at her, turning.

“Well, someone’s gotten into the theme. I approve of this tasteful introduction of the Serpent aesthetic into your outfit.” Veronica smiled like Betty was her own creation. She held out her hand, eyes bright. “Let’s go find your guy.”

* * *

Whatever Toni was trying to tell him faded out when he saw her, _Betty_ , enter the room. She had her hair pulled up and the softened light inside the gym made her fair skin glow all down her neck to her bare shoulders. Sweet Pea could see that Veronica was with her and that the girls had their arms around one another’s waists as they scanned the room. He wanted to make a crack at Toni, ask her why _she_ never walked around joined at the hip with another girl, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Betty. His eyebrows bunched together. What were they looking for? Betty’s face turned… slowly… slowly… and her eyes found his. Though he knew his expression was stuck on its default (solemn)―as it had been since he’d entered the school―he felt seriously afraid. Afraid of how beautiful Betty looked. He saw her whisper to Veronica then stride away from her friend, cutting through the middle of the room instead of looping around the edges.

Through the pairs and groups dancing, Sweet Pea watched Betty approach him, just him, his friends moving away with teasing comments under their breath. His smile for her tugged up gradually and his hands came out of his pockets. She was wearing dark green, deeper than the green on his Serpents jacket (left at home for the evening), and he had to wonder if she’d made the choice with his gang affiliation in mind. Fishnets, too, which was hot and thoroughly distracting. Still, when she came right up to him, she smiled, seeming as much herself as ever. Even with her heels on, Betty was about half a foot shorter than him, so Sweet Pea angled his head down towards hers as though to speak closer to her ear over the loud music. Feeling her tremble when their cheeks grazed was like sticking a knife in a toaster. Instead of talking, he pressed his nose and mouth to the underside of her jaw near her ear, breathing her perfume.

“You even _smell_ nice,” he murmured as he pulled away. Betty’s face spread with a colour like cherry soda.

“Do you just want to talk for a while?” she asked, wide eyes darting back and forth between his. Sweet Pea grinned.

“No.”

Heart hammering, he reached for her hand. It felt a little like his whole arm had gone numb, but the way her palm closed around his proved him wrong. Her fingers were cold, like the night of New Year’s Eve; that was alright. Sweet Pea led her from the side of the room where the Serpents had convened. It wasn’t the place for Betty Cooper. People got out of his way, like they always did, and Sweet Pea doled out a mix of jagged stares and smug smirks to anyone who looked too long. A fast song changed to a slow one and he exhaled forcefully. There was no time for wimping out now. He stopped her short of the center of the room―he wasn’t trying to attract a spotlight like they were in some fucking rom-com―and they turned towards each other.

Betty raised her arms, he assumed to put them around his neck, but paused partway with a laugh. Sweet Pea grinned. Height was the difference between them that bothered him the least.

“I got this,” he assured her, and placed one of her hands on his shoulder, lifting the other in his own. Last, he laid his hand on her waist and smoothed it around so that his fingers stroked her back, holding her closer. As they matched up the rhythm of their footsteps, Betty stepped in tighter to him, running her palm up towards his neck. His heart felt like a tetherball that had just received a vicious kick. A few seconds went by before she looked him in the eyes, then he saw nothing but pale green.

“I forgot how big you are. _Tall_ ,” Betty blurted, correcting herself and reddening.

“Just when I thought there was a reason you were pressing yourself so close.” He gave her a burning look and she jerked away, surprisingly stable on her tall shoes. He laughed and guided her back.

“I’m teasing you. Don’t move away.”

Sweet Pea felt her relax in his arms, better than the first time.

“It’s been a while since we were this close,” she pointed out.

“Standing up,” he clarified blatantly. Her expression looked pleasantly shocked. “I haven’t forgotten our test drive.” Sweet Pea held her gaze, pretty sure she got that when he said ‘test drive,’ he wasn’t referring to the part of the afternoon where he’d been gunning Toni’s car out of Riverdale.

Betty kept her lips shut for a while, watching his face. Her eyes were so wide, her look so honest, that Sweet Pea had to train his own line of sight on the far wall, letting it slip along gradually as they swayed. He was going nuts wondering what she was thinking. Telling her he’d been staring at her while she danced had made his appreciation of her looks clear, right? But what did she think of him? The main thing you wanted to look like when you were a Serpent was _mean_ , and Sweet Pea could do that, no problem. Didn’t really help him in this situation though.

“You have nice features,” Betty finally said. “Delicate. How have I never noticed before?”

He raised an eyebrow at ‘delicate,’ but glanced down to look at her.

“When we’re this close,” he flexed his fingers around her hand to make his point, “you usually start making out with me―” Betty’s laugh came out bright and disbelieving. Sweet Pea had to laugh with her. “―so you have your eyes shut. I assume.” He shrugged. “I have _my_ eyes shut under those circumstances, picturing you wearing―”

Betty slapped a hand over his mouth, reshaping her blockade as his smile pushed against it.

“Seems like I can’t say anything nice to you without you turning it into something else,” she accused, lowering her hand to his chest.

“You could try saying something naughty to me instead,” he offered, face serious. “Just a suggestion.”

Betty shook her head at Sweet Pea, laughing, and let her forehead fall against him. He held her, setting them on an autopiloted unhurried rotation through another several minutes of slow songs. The feel of her wouldn’t be getting old anytime soon, but the music started to make him restless. Once, he spotted Toni, who gave him an encouraging smile. Unfortunately, Fangs followed her gaze and started making the kind of vulgar gestures that would’ve earned him a black eye, had he been within Sweet Pea’s reach. Weighing revenge against the difficulty of abandoning Betty, he settled for giving Fangs the finger from a distance. Toni could straighten him out in the meantime.

“So,” Sweet Pea finally said to Betty, voice low as he glided his hand up her back to touch the exposed skin between her shoulder blades, “are you gonna be my girl?”

She lifted her head, a strand of blonde hair swinging loose to curve around her cheek.

“Jughead knows?”

“Jughead knows,” he confirmed, curious but figuring there were a million ways she could’ve found that out.

“Everything?”

“No, not everything,” he smiled suggestively, “though, I guess with him, you never know.”

“Careful,” Betty warned, shaking her hair away from her face with a loose toss of her head, “that almost sounds like a compliment.”

Sweet Pea grinned, his eyes travelling aimlessly around the room before coming back to her face.

“I’m finding him a lot easier to tolerate when I know you’re nearby.”

She smiled a pleased, close-lipped smile, her gaze falling from his momentarily. Sweet Pea adjusted his grip on her hand, linking their fingers together.

“Can I ask you a question?” Naturally, he nodded. “Why didn’t you wait for a fast song?”

No answer yet. Ok, he was going to have to wait her out and let her decide about being his girlfriend on her own terms. That seemed about right, based on what he’d seen and heard of her.

“Assumed it would be more likely to make you feel awkward. Also,” he turned his head, smirking to himself, “I know slow music works for you.”

Betty didn’t miss a thing. Her eyes narrowed, though she still smiled in anticipation.

“Works for me how?”

“Makes you feel sexy. Definitely makes you _look_ sexy.” He glanced down below her face, letting his gaze drag along the skin of her shoulders, her upper chest, her neck.

“You think I’m sexy?”

Sweet Pea slipped his fingers from Betty’s, caressing across her palm to feel her pulse race at her wrist. Her shoulder twitched, digging into his chest, when he touched her there. _Huh_ , he thought. _Sensitive_. He locked eyes with her.

“Yeah.”

She cocked her head to the side coyly.

“Will you tell me again, as my boyfriend?”

Sweet Pea drew her into full contact with his body and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Betty Cooper, you are sexy as hell.”

Quickly biting her lip, she hooked her fingers into his hair and pulled him into a long, slow kiss. He made a note to find and get his vengeance on the bastard who _whoop_ ed. Besides that, it was goddamn nirvana. When it was time for him to use his tongue for talking again, he asked her:

“What do you want to hear?”

“‘Lover to Lover.’”

“Done.”

Letting her go, Sweet Pea went off through the thickening swarm of dancers to find Toni. When he passed on Betty’s request, his favourite Serpent grinned and talked her way into taking the current DJ’s place. Toni was funny like that. Never tried to take charge during gang counsels, but turned into a natural authority behind a bar or with an unlimited musical selection at her fingertips. Sweet Pea didn’t feel bad asking for this favour; Toni and the others had only come tonight because he’d wanted to, and he hadn’t seen her even _attempt_ to hit on a girl all night. She wouldn’t be missing anything.

The beat came bouncing in as he got back to Betty. She was already moving without him, her hips doing a quick, sharp swing from side to side. Sweet Pea gathered her towards him, two hands on his girl’s lower back while he hit every other beat with a subtle raise of alternating shoulders. Before he could bring her as close as he wanted her, Betty turned in his arms, an upward tic of her timed movements making her hip graze his crotch. It took serious willpower to keep his mouth from dropping open in appreciative surprise. Without any sort of lead-in, she fit the back of herself to his front, one arm winding up above her head to grip the back of his neck as she rocked against him. Her fingers were warm now, rubbing at his skin and Sweet Pea held onto those shifting hips of hers. It felt like the two of them hit some kind of stride, hidden in plain sight amongst other dancers focused on their own partners, and Betty started to roll her hips front to back as well as sideways―impossible not to notice with her ass nudging back against his c― Anyway, impossible not to notice. Sweet Pea tilted his head forward, staring down at her to watch her body move. She had her eyes closed. His hands traveled up the curve of her waist, ran over her stomach and up her ribs; he had to glance around for a reminder that they weren’t alone and that he shouldn’t slide his hands any higher. Because he _really_ wanted to. Just then, Betty grabbed his right hand in her left, intertwining their fingers and moving their grasp over her abdomen. Now he could feel the hypnotic motion of her from front and back. With his free hand, Sweet Pea trailed his fingers along her outer arm, then hopped them down onto her hip. He drew his hand up deliberately, pulling at the material of her dress trapped under his fingers to see more of that fishnet-covered thigh. _My girl_. When her hips twisted against him again, Sweet Pea groaned and heard a pant in response. So slowly, Betty’s head turned and her chin raised. Her gaze stole up his face, then fell back to his mouth.

“You know,” he murmured to her, leaning in and letting his lips touch her ear, “nobody ever gave me a tour of this school when I was transferred here. Seems like a lapse.”

She grabbed his hand so fast to lead him out, her nails nipped his palm.


	9. And Yet So Near

IX

They slammed into the alcove, unintended in the school’s initial design, but circumstantially created when a drinking fountain had to be removed and its water supply cut off. Sweet Pea was on her, kissing her hot and hard, and she had to break away to catch her breath, running her lips down his neck. No turtleneck tonight, thank god. The restriction had been lifted for the dance, and Betty hoped forever, since it really only targeted Sweet Pea; none of the other Serpent transfers had such a prominent placement of their tattoo. His arms came around her, holding her so snugly that she hardly noticed the cold metal of the end of the locker bank she was pressed back against. Leaning into her a little more, Sweet Pea grabbed the back of Betty’s thigh. Her dress rustled as he tugged her leg up and out to bring his hips fully to hers. She could feel him, even more intimately than she’d been able to when they were dancing, and she slid her hands down from his back, bringing them around to feel the sharp poke of his hipbones. Betty flattened her palms against him, suspended between holding him close and pushing him away. Sweet Pea’s warm hand continued to clutch her thigh. It was likely that her tights had already left the impression of diamonds across his palm.

“Are there cameras in this place?” he asked, shaping his free hand to Betty’s hip so she wouldn’t fall over.

Betty’s eyes darted up and around before she remembered she already knew the answer.

“Cameras? No.” She still sounded out of breath. “Only when they set them up to film variety shows or football games. Not for security.” Betty’s hands crept up the outside of Sweet Pea’s shirt. She smoothed her palms across his chest, but her wayward fingers found his buttons and began undoing them.

“Wow. They must really trust you Northsiders.”

Betty figured that Sweet Pea wasn’t waiting for either confirmation or correction, seeing as he was already kissing her again. _Good_ , she thought, sighing and raising her arms to loop them behind his neck, lazily crossing her wrists. The action really wouldn’t do much (or anything) to support her, but she felt confident putting herself _literally_ in Sweet Pea’s hands. Even if his strength wasn’t so physically obvious―she lowered one hand, twisting open more buttons, running her fingers down to feel where chest ended and abs began―Betty still wouldn’t have believed he could drop her. His interest in her was present and intense. Now here was someone whose affection she’d never have to doubt. She felt the splay of his fingers on her back, felt him trace the zipper of her dress… _Good_ , she thought again. Then, _No, wait. Bad!_ Sure, they were superficially conceal, but they’d only turned two corners after leaving the gym. Only one from the main bathrooms.

“I think we should go farther,” Betty whispered, pulling out of the kiss. She looked for agreement in his penetrating dark eyes. Sweet Pea smiled elatedly and his hand rushed from the middle of her back to her chest, moulding eagerly to her breast. She hauled his hand away, her laugh high and giddy. “As in, farther _from the gym_.”

He just shrugged and leaned over her, kissing her neck. His rejected hand cupped the side of her ribcage instead. Enjoying the feel of his lips, Betty started to close her eyes, slipping her hand into his shirt to press it to his bare skin. Wonderingly, she realized she could feel his heart banging under her palm. Shifting fluidly on his feet, Sweet Pea nudged his hips against hers. Heat fluttered through her, leg muscles automatically clenching to cradle his hip.

“Wait!” she burst out, eyes opening. Sweet Pea raised his head to smirk at her in amusement. “Somebody might see us,” Betty insisted, hoping her seriousness would show up at least a little in her gaze, which she was afraid presented nothing but lust.

“Ok,” he said, his features turning solemn as he concentrated on her face. “What’s your point?”

Oh. _Oh_. Betty unthinkingly slumped back to put some distance between their faces as she contemplated Sweet Pea’s remark. She needed space to think. She needed post-it notes and a whiteboard and… A part of her back that had so far been spared from touching the freezing locker made contact and she flinched forward again. Sweet Pea’s hand skated over her icy skin, warming the spot she’d just flash-frozen. She met his eyes and his expression was unchanged, unreadable. This guy certainly wasn’t the open book some of her friends were. Maybe Betty was learning something about him right now, told to her in a way that demanded she take it or leave it. Was that it? No, he liked her more than that, right? She recalled him lending her his jacket that night in the parking lot, endearingly kissing her hand at New Year’s, and walking down the hall at her side between classes when she was still hiding so much of what she felt. Those were things she couldn’t have guessed about him. This―this nonchalance regarding potentially being caught kissing, and more, based on the magnetic pull her hips appeared to have over his―did seem more his style. It was risky. It flew in the face of accepted social conduct, and definitely in the face of the rules and regulations of Riverdale High School. Serpent or not, it was even a little surprising to Betty that Sweet Pea could have it in him to stand sinisterly in the background with his friends, then hazard a public display with her.

He raised his hand, running the back of his fingers up her cheek. Sweet Pea’s mouth got close and Betty closed her eyes gradually as he began to kiss her again. It was a kiss that slunk slowly, light and long like shadows in the morning. She wondered, as she was warmed by him all over again, if there was any real reason to be reluctant. Was she hesitant by nature or nurture? No one knew, _no one_ , but the idea of truly being herself felt, to Betty, like being an acrobat and letting go of the trapeze with no safety net. She didn’t know how far she could fall. Usually (and metaphorically), Betty stared straight ahead, hung on tight, and breathed, ignoring the way gravity pulled at her legs. In Sweet Pea’s arms, not only was she glancing down, she was tempted to jump.

“You smell good too,” she mumbled, barely pulling away, in fact gripping the collar of his shirt so he couldn’t pull away either.

Sweet Pea’s smile snuck up on one side and the tender caresses his fingers were giving her face and neck stopped abruptly as his hand went straight for her ass. He was a man of few words, but with an uncanny instinct for unspoken cues that Betty suspected served him well in the Serpents. Under his vigorous guidance, the very center of her was dragged against him, his fingers digging into the swishing fabric of her dress. Betty jolted in a way that only horror movie jump cuts could typically make her. The impulse to back down, to correct the situation and rein in her behaviour, grabbed her, but she only kissed Sweet Pea more eagerly. His hand was rubbing franticly up and down her hoisted thigh now, heating her with friction. Eyes still shut tight, Betty found his fingers and tangled them in hers, bringing his hand under the hem of her dress. Apparently, Sweet Pea was prepared to take her action at face value, hot palm stroking further up her thigh. Her muscles tensed impatiently, making their hips bump together again. A muffled groan passed from his mouth to hers and he pulled suddenly away, sucking at the skin of her neck until Betty was panting and could feel that she was wet for him. When he raised his head up to lay his cheek alongside hers, Betty touched her neck, almost certain he’d just left a mark in the exactly spot where a tattoo appeared on his. _Marked by a Serpent_ , she thought, and didn’t even care if it showed.

Stealing her hand into his shirt again, Betty traced a wobbling path down his skin, realizing she was copying the way his fingers were moving inch by inch up her leg. He reached her hip. She reached his navel. Running the tip of his tongue along the underside of her jaw, he brought his hand between her legs, shaping palm and fingers around her. Trembling and biting hard at her own lip, she hooked the ends of her fingers over the waist of his pants, feeling the shape of his dick firm against her palm. Sweet Pea stroked her. Betty was his echo. Then, patience escaped him and he felt up towards her waist, found the edge of her fishnets and eased them down her hips. Betty lowered her leg, feeling a little more stable with two feet on the floor until Sweet Pea took her tights halfway down her thighs and went back for her underwear. For a second, she stood there, moving her hand methodically up and down Sweet Pea’s covered erection while the skirt of her dress brushed against her legs and knowing she had nothing on underneath it. The next second, his fingers were there, warm and deftly probing at her wetness, his brown eyes tracking her green ones. An emboldening came over her and Betty felt herself smirking; her gaze seemed to dare him, to egg him on. Sweet Pea’s thumb paused on her clit, slicked by the way he’d pulled his fingers through her arousal. Maybe he would’ve treated her more delicately if not for the smirk, but she’d never know.

Immediately, he was jouncing her clit, his fingers continuing to slide towards her entrance. Betty’s hands banged back against the locker, eliciting a hollow clang. Reactively, she started to bring her knees together as if trying to trap the feeling Sweet Pea was creating in her, with her. He put a stop to that, pushing his own knee between her legs and inserting a finger into her. Even before he pressed her just right, Betty could feel how her body wanted it. Once his finger and thumb were moving in a rhythm that she couldn’t divert the brainpower to understand, Betty heard herself gasping before she recognized that it _was_ her. Her own hand had stilled against him, instead just holding loosely to his waistband. There was no word of complaint from her boyfriend. _Oh my god_ , Betty thought, _boyfriend!_ Sweet Pea’s mouth caught hers, his tongue moving inside to stroke against her own. As though to replay their last scene before officially becoming a couple, her free hand grabbed his shoulder and smoothed towards his neck. The tingle she was feeling, struggling to keep her legs from going weak, was growing, making her feel lithe and flammable. What did her hand think she was doing? Dancing? The pleasure was making her body stupid, though in the moment, she didn’t care about being stupid because she was happy. Happy, when her head rocked back, ending the kiss but letting Sweet Pea speak close to her ear.

“God, Betty,” he panted. “Fuck _yes_. I knew you were waiting for me.”

The front of his hips pressed into her thigh, his erection stiff and unyielding. Sweet Pea’s finger hooked insistently inside her, his thumb leaping in unwavering circles to tease her clit more than she would’ve thought she could bear. It turned out she couldn’t endure it, her orgasm hitting her with such force and surprise that it felt like she’d been pushed in front of a bus. Had breathing not been automatic, Betty thought she might have died right there, two corners from a gym full of people she’d grown up with and who, really, knew nothing about her.

When she opened her eyes, Sweet Pea’s face was almost aggressively triumphant and would have made Betty blush if she hadn’t already been about a million degrees all over.

“I don’t know what to say,” she confided to him.

“You’re welcome,” he shot back arrogantly.

“You’re welcome,” Betty repeated, fighting against the smile trying to spread her lips. Sweet Pea’s eyebrows rose. His hair was tousled and she couldn’t remember doing it. Whoops. He removed his hand and, carefully, she reached down and pulled her underwear and fishnets back up, straightening her skirt.

“Oh, I’m supposed to thank _you_?”

“Are you going to try to tell me you didn’t enjoy that?” It took another beat or two of her heart, but Betty got her gaze to drop to the front of his pants. Slowly, she raised her eyes back to his face, beaming now.

“You don’t play fair,” he countered, planting his palm next to her head and leaning over her with intense eyes.

Betty touched his chest, intending to playfully push him away and finding she was smoothing her hand over his skin instead. Sweet Pea’s eyes fell to watch her movement. He reached for her, grabbing her hips with both hands, and ducked his head to kiss her. A low buzz resolved itself into the chatter of a group of girls, probably coming out of the washroom around the corner. Betty took her hands back, eyeing Sweet Pea lightheadedly as she tilted her face away from his.

“The dance is still going on,” she said.

“I know. Without _us_ ,” he replied sarcastically. Betty rolled her eyes.

“I have to get back to Kevin,” she explained, trying not to get sucked into the quicksand of Sweet Pea’s stare. “He’s driving me home.”

There was such a thing as locking eyes, and then there was what Sweet Pea did, which felt closer to imprisoning her gaze and throwing away the key. Betty smiled, completely taken by him.

“No,” she refuted herself, “I guess he’s not.”

“I’ve got you covered,” Sweet Pea assured her.

“Still, I should let him know.” Betty rolled her foot to the side, feeling hazily guilty that she’d disappeared on her friends. They were smart though and would definitely check with the other Serpents right away if they were really wondering about her whereabouts. Who was she kidding? Everybody had probably seen her nearly dislocating Sweet Pea’s shoulder (slight exaggeration) to get him out of the gym. Well, she could apologize for her absence if it was an issue, but she wasn’t going to volunteer any explanations.

“Let’s go,” Sweet Pea said simply, starting to button his shirt as he stepped out of their alcove.

Betty had cooled down enough that she managed to flush anew watching him redo what she’d undone. Evidently, he was just going to button as he walked, but she wasn’t ready to make their indiscretion quite so obvious so she stood still. He didn’t go ahead without her. However, when he was done, Sweet Pea narrowed his eyes, assessing her.

“You should put your hair down,” he suggested. “I, uh… you…” He gestured vaguely to her neck, so Betty started pulling out bobby pins, feeling her earlier bravado about the mark ebb. Well, _she’d_ still know it was there. And so would he.


	10. Bathroom Blitz

X

Sweet Pea wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, glad that Betty’s lipstick hadn’t been dark, and gripped the edge of the bathroom counter. He was lingering― _loitering_ was the word Northsiders would probably use to talk about somebody like him―in the bathroom near the gym. A few guys had come and gone, jumping when they saw him as if he was the goddamn clown from _It_ , but Sweet Pea still hadn’t left. He’d also washed his hands and talked down his hard-on like he was deescalating a shootout situation. His sneakered feet stayed planted. _Come on,_ Sweet Pea urged himself, staring at his own eyes in the mirror. For some reason, his brain and his body were both going into survival mode. Ok, so he knew the reason. Sweet Pea was hoping that if he let Betty go on ahead of him that she’d talk to her friends, sort shit out, and then meet back up with him solo. As soon as his girl had mentioned finding the sheriff’s kid, Sweet Pea realized a few things. He was fine with interacting with Northsiders at a Southside location. He was fine with interacting with Northsiders at a _Northside_ location, if he had plenty of Southsiders with him. He was _extremely_ fine with interacting with a particular blonde Northsider wherever she wanted, so long as they were alone. BUT. He was not fine with interacting with Northsiders when it was just him, no gang, no backup. The chances that Little Miss Trust Fund, sonofacop, and Archie ‘Superman’ Andrews were waiting to pull a blade on him were pretty fucking slim. That wasn’t what worried him. Sweet Pea shoved his fingers through his hair. He didn’t want to be questioned or assessed or determined by pass or fail to be ‘boyfriend material.’

“Suck it up,” he quietly snarled at his reflection. A stall door swung slowly open like he was about to get a pep talk from the Riverdale High bathroom ghost. Sweet Pea turned and jolted backwards. Nope, not a ghost. Probably wasn’t going to be a pep talk either.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” said Jones, “and I don’t even know what’s wrong with you.”

“What the fuck are you doing in here?”

“In the bathroom?” Jones raised his eyebrows sarcastically. “Yeah, the possibilities are endless.”

“I didn’t see you come in. _Or_ at the dance,” Sweet Pea accused, crossing his arms and standing up straight. Making himself big. Jones kept his eyes on Sweet Pea and went to wash his hands.

“I’m a natural wallflower,” Jones replied. Sweet Pea wondered if all that dry sarcasm made him thirsty. He was trying to keep calm, but this asshole always put him on edge.

“Were you watching her?” He figured it was time to cut through the bullshit. Jones dug his dried hands into his pockets and shrugged, facing Sweet Pea.

“I go to this school, remember? Same as you.”

“Why aren’t you at home tonight?”

Jones snorted annoyingly.

“Because I’m all caught up on _Scooby-Doo_. Easy, _dad_. I do have a life, you know.”

“You told Toni you weren’t coming and you’d be at home, and she told _me_.”

“That’s quite a complex system you’ve worked out there, Sweet Pea,” he said back mockingly. Sweet Pea took a step towards him.

“After the way you nearly puked last time, I didn’t think you’d want me to punch you again.”

“Careful,” Jones warned as Sweet Pea took another step. “This school takes bullying more seriously than Southside High did.”

“I want to know if you were watching her.” He kept his voice flat, cold. Jones broke their gaze and Sweet Pea rushed him, grabbing the front of his jacket. “ _Were you watching her?!_ ” he yelled in the sonofabitch’s face.

The door to the bathroom banged open. Sweet Pea let Jones go and backed away from him, clenching his fists and trying to mash his anger down into something just as compact. Heels clicked across the floor and there stood Betty, eyes wide.

“What…?” She trailed off, her expression confused as Jones turned towards her, making her look away from Sweet Pea.

“Just a casual bathroom chat,” Beanie Boy offered. Betty did _not_ look convinced. Sweet Pea smirked to himself and she glanced at him.

“Do you mind if I talk to Jughead for a while?”

“Yes.” He re-crossed his arms. Betty mimicked him.

“I’m going to talk to Jughead for a while.” She stared him down.

“Meet me outside,” Sweet Pea told her, like leaving was his idea.

At least she nodded. Jones got a solid collision to his shoulder as Sweet Pea pushed past him. He hauled the door open, startling some guy trying to enter. Raising his arm, Sweet Pea pressed extended fingers into the kid’s chest.

“Not a good time, man. Find another bathroom.”

The kid fled. It sure was nice going to a school where every other student wasn’t a fucking Ghoulie. Sweet Pea was certain the Serpents could’ve gotten a good amount of respect here (after dealing with those loudmouth Bulldogs) if they’d been allowed to wear their jackets. Ah well. Even unmarked, they had some power. In most situations. With the miscellaneous Northsider out of the way (possibly to wet himself before he reached another bathroom, based on how shocked he’d looked), Sweet Pea saw that Betty’s friends were standing not 10 feet down the hall. And looking his way. _Great_. He couldn’t _not_ wait for Betty, especially in case he overheard Jughead doing something that translated into asking for a beating. Crossing the hall to wait for her alone was most appealing, but he didn’t think his girl or her shadows would be too impressed by that. He ambled over to them, eyes hard enough to be discouraging without being outright… well, evil.

“I’m Veronica Lodge,” the walking bank account said eagerly, thrusting out her hand to be shaken. Sweet Pea clapped it in his for as short a time as possible. “And this is Kevin Keller,” she gestured over her shoulder at Sheriff Jr., “and my boyfriend, singer and athlete extraordinaire, Archie Andrews.”

“Thanks, Ronnie,” the redhead gave her a smitten smile, “but Sweet Pea and I already know each other.”

“Yes, well,” she pressed on forcefully, “sometimes it’s nice to start over. On the right foot.” Sweet Pea and Archie eyed each other, neither giving an inch. He hadn’t forgotten what an alpha Andrews was. Rolling his eyes might not go over well though. “ _For Betty_ ,” Veronica emphasized impatiently.

“Yeah,” Archie agreed, demeanor immediately warming, “for Betty. Of course.” Out came his all-American handshake. Sweet Pea let his palm connect, prepared for a quiet struggle for dominance determined by who could break more bones in the other guy's hand, but apparently Archie was on his best behaviour for his girlfriend. Who Sweet Pea _did_ get the intimidation grip from was Kevin. Huh. Well, now he knew who was the most possessive of Betty.

“So,” Veronica started brightly when it looked like everyone was going to play nicely under her watch, “did you guys run out of paper towels in there or something?”

Sweet Pea wanted to laugh. Act oblivious and miss nothing; he kind of liked this chick’s style. Upper class manners probably helped too, stopping her from saying anything rude or abrasive, at least until the niceties were done with.

“Something like that.” He stared at each of their three wholesome Northsider faces in turn. Seemed like they were waiting for more. “I nearly had to mop the floor with Jones,” Sweet Pea decided to add, working with the cleaning idea she’d suggested with ‘paper towels.’

Archie’s face darkened, but Sweet Pea couldn’t tell if it meant he didn’t like Jones or he didn’t like hearing a threat directed _towards_ Jones. It wasn’t worth the effort to keep track of these people’s goddamn best friend drama. He thought somebody should tell them about the wonders of fistfights to solve problems. That was one area where the Serpents’ knowledge was definitely superior.

Another thing he noticed was that none of them seemed surprised to hear that Jones was in the building. A third thing was that none of them went to help Betty. That made him smirk a little, thinking that his girl was known in her circle as someone who could deal with shit herself. Like him.

“Sweet Pea,” Veronica tried again after a minute of awkward silence, “Betty’s told us so many good things about you!”

His eyes narrowed at the praise.

“She has?”

“Well,” Kevin interceded, taking the conversation from Veronica like they were on the same team in a relay race, “not so much with her words as with her actions.”

“We can see that you’re important to her. She hasn’t been like this since―”

The bathroom door opened. Betty came out, looking off. Comfort her? Don’t comfort her? In front of her friends, Sweet Pea let her come to him, catching sight of Jughead slipping out the door after her and hurrying away in the other direction. Creep. Sweet Pea would’ve gone after him in a heartbeat if he’d thought it was what Betty would want.

“Are you o―” Archie started. Sweet Pea glared at him and it shut his mouth.

Turning so that it was mostly his back to Betty’s friends, he stood close to her and spoke in a low voice.

“Everything good?”

“Yeah, I… handled it.” She met his gaze, but it was reluctant. Sweet Pea didn’t like it. She tapped his arm to make him get out of the way so she could face her friends. Still, he kept his eyes only on her face. It didn’t look like she’d been crying, but her cheeks were red and her eyes were sad. Even so, he thought the distress made her eyes look bright and pretty.

“Everything’s fine,” Betty assured her trio of supporters, giving them a smile that, to Sweet Pea, so clearly set her own feelings aside to spare theirs. She must have felt his disbelief because she reached out suddenly and took his hand, twisting their fingers together. Jesus. He wasn’t sure he’d ever held hands with somebody in public. Definitely not like this.

“We can go home now, Betty,” Kevin said, stepping closer, “no problem.”

“Or to the Pembrooke,” Veronica suggested. “I’ve got a mug of hot cocoa with your name on it.”

If Archie had spoken up then and offered to let Betty come to his place, Sweet Pea was absolutely certain he would’ve punched the guy in the dick. Lucky for the boy-next-door, he stayed quiet. Immediately, the three of them moved forward as if to close ranks around Betty and carry her away like ants with a crumb.

“Hold up,” Sweet Pea commanded, turning his face sharply away from Betty’s. They halted, waiting. He looked back at his girl, trying to ask her to give him a minute to talk to her without saying those fucking cliché words ‘can we talk.’ It seemed to work because she nodded. Now, he crossed the hall with her while her friends wandered a little farther off, getting their stuff from the coat check.

“Don’t go with them,” Sweet Pea said as soon as they stopped. Betty smiled indulgently.

“Are you worried about me?”

“Yes.”

That made her smile even more. Shit, it was just the truth. This girl was too used to secrets.

“They’re my friends. Kev _drove_ here. You can trust him to get me home ok.”

“The last time we talked―which, let me remind you, was minutes ago―you were leaving with _me_.” Hopefully his stern expression hid his disappointment.

“Well,” she started, glancing at the floor, “maybe it’s best―”

“No.”

“No?”

“It’s not best,” Sweet Pea clarified, feeling some form of passion rise inside him. It was hard to get it out of his system after squaring off against Jones, feeling ready to throw punches right there in the bathroom. And before that, getting physical with Betty. Tonight had kept his blood racing. She crossed her arms. He smothered the impulse to smile at the sight of her getting stubborn.

“For who?”

“Definitely not for me,” he answered honestly, “but not for you either.”

“How’s that?”

“ _Because_ ,” Sweet Pea began loudly, losing his cool. He shut his eyes for a second and tugged his hair. “Because,” he said more quietly, focusing hard on her face, “if you walk away from me now, tonight…” Damnit, couldn’t he put a fucking sentence together? He grasped Betty’s hand, making her crossed arms tumble down without resistance. “If you don’t leave with me, you’ll be thinking about _him_.” He stared deep into her green eyes and knew she’d understand he wasn’t talking about Kevin, or Archie, or any of the other well-meaning male friends she might have hanging around this place. “Whatever happened in that bathroom after I left is your business, I’ll respect that, but I’m not going to buy that it didn’t affect you. That he doesn’t still, somehow, affect you.”

Betty started to speak and he put a finger to her lips. He knew she was gutsy enough to bend it backwards, make him suffer for silencing her, if she wanted to. All she did was look up at him calmly and shake her head. After another second or two, he lowered his hand. She held it right away.

“I asked him why he was still here,” Betty explained while Sweet Pea kept his expression neutral. “I talked to him for a minute when I got to the dance, but I thought he’d left.” She shrugged, thoughtful. “It seems like he’s…” her forehead scrunched and he wanted to smooth it flat for her, “…trying to let go, but he’s having a hard time. He’s lonely, I can see that.”

Sweet Pea couldn’t take it. He let his head fall back and groaned in annoyance.

“He’s manip―”

Now it was her finger on his lips. He rolled his eyes.

“I reminded him that it was _he_ who broke up with me. _He_ who was determined to make it ‘stick.’ And now, he who is failing to do so.” She met Sweet Pea’s eyes imploringly. “You think I’ve forgotten that he hurt me, but I’m not stupid, Sweet Pea. I might _forgive_ him at some point, but that’s not going to touch how I feel about you.” Her words came out softly at the end. Shy, like she hadn’t meant to say them. “Sound good?” she prodded, questioning him with sincere eyes.

He let his silence voice his consent and his gratitude for her forthrightness, running his thumb carefully over her knuckles. At least she hadn’t had to give Jones a black eye to get her point across―not that Sweet Pea _had_ to do that either, he just would have _liked_ to. Betty sighed like she was finally relaxing. He offered a smile.

“So you’re going home with―”

“You,” she said confidently. “Or, I mean, um… to my home. You’re driving me to my home.” Her calm broke to pieces and Sweet Pea started laughing.

“Fuck, I was gonna say I hadn’t even _asked_ you yet.”

She tossed her hair in shallow irritation, turning away from him, and Sweet Pea spotted the hickey he’d left on her neck. Subconsciously, he licked his lips, feeling his body wake up. When Betty began to walk towards her friends, Sweet Pea said loudly, “Can’t wait for more, huh?” and slapped her hard on the ass. She stared at him as he stepped up beside her, mouth fallen open from shock (likely) and indignation (definitely). Well, if she wanted to be his girlfriend, she was damn well going to be his girlfriend. And people were going to know it. He grinned at her and nodded to her friends to acknowledge them, letting them know he hadn’t forgotten they were still around.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she muttered, blushing on every part of her head and neck that wasn’t blonde.

“I can’t believe _you_ left me to make small talk with your friends. Even stevens, babe.”

Sweet Pea followed Betty to the coat check, looking down so no one could see how hard he was smiling. After all, he had a reputation to protect.


	11. What to Expect

XI

“That’s _it?_ ”

“What do you mean ‘that’s it?’” Betty asked, disappointed by Veronica’s reaction. “It was really romantic.”

“But you just _drove around_.”

Betty sighed, adjusting her hold on her phone. Her friends had basically left her to her own devices after the dance, trusting (in Betty more than Sweet Pea, she suspected) that she would get home safely. She had sent Kevin a text to let him know that she had and put off the thought of the verbal bombardment she knew would be coming. Veronica had managed to restrain herself until the following morning, a Saturday, though Betty was almost certain the delay was due to however her friend and her redheaded neighbour spent their evening rather than any conscious attempt by Veronica to give her space.

“Uh huh,” Betty confirmed.

“So where’s the appeal in that? I saw how you two danced,” Veronica teased. “I would’ve been less surprised if you’d told me you’d climbed in the backseat than the front.”

“People used to do that in this town, you know, V? Just cruise.”

“And was that before or after the invention of the birth control pill? ‘Cause I’m guessing it was before.”

Betty couldn’t help laughing, even as she pressed her fingers against her forehead in mild frustration. It seemed so easy for her friend to fling everything out in the open like that, her opinions, her actions. There was no doubt in Betty’s mind that Veronica and Archie were sleeping together because they were both just so… comfortable with their affection in public. It helped Betty in a way, knowing that she had someone to turn to if her own situation progressed. After the night Jughead had told her he loved her―which felt like it had been about a decade ago now―Betty had talked to her mother, and then her doctor, about going on the pill; the very same item Veronica was currently treating with such flippancy had been a big deal for Betty to consider and procure. Having that conversation with her mom had been a particularly hellish brand of mortification, but at the time, her relationship with Jughead had seemed to be clearly moving in that direction. Being prepared was one of Betty’s most defining traits. That milestone step aside, she’d seen no reason to expose herself to further torturous talks as far as possible bedroom specifics. In the end, she and Jughead had broken up, never having again come as close to sex as they had that first and only time. But now, when she was thinking about it again, there was Veronica, providing advice whether Betty was totally comfortable hearing it or not.

“Just… hold off on the guidance for now, would you?” Betty used her shoulder to press her phone to her ear as she pulled her boots on.

“I’m only trying to help,” Veronica protested in a sympathetic tone. “Besides, I’m not sure I’m actually _capable_ of resisting the instinct to assist you with my worldly wisdom,” she joked.

“Well, I’m not asking for forever, V, just until I get to Pop’s.” Betty smiled into the phone.

“Fine,” Veronica capitulated, “I’ll see you in, what? 10?”

“Yep. I’m just heading out.” Betty waved to her mom, seated in the kitchen, and mouthed ‘Pop’s.’ Alice nodded.

Veronica was already in a booth when she arrived. Betty sat, then turned to catch Pop’s attention to order a milkshake, but as she did so, the very man appeared and set a pair of them on the table. She thanked him and rotated back to her friend, who was smiling in deep satisfaction with her chin resting on intertwined fingers. Preparing to be grilled like one of Pop’s burgers, Betty took a deep breath.

“So you gave the boyfriend the slip today, did you?” she asked companionably. Veronica’s eyebrow arched.

“I could ask you the same question. You and Sweet Pea are _official_ now, aren’t you?”

Betty smiled around her straw, face heating a little although her mouth was full of ice cream-y slush.

“I think so.”

“Did _he_ say you are?” Veronica swirled her own milkshake with a straw.

“ _He_ asked _me_ , actually.”

“Then that’s a definite yes, since he strikes me as the kind of guy who treats his word as law. Serious Betty and her serious boyfriend.” Veronica smiled, tipping her head to the side as she met Betty’s gaze.

“Boy, don’t we sound fun,” Betty replied sarcastically, though they both cracked a grin. “You did get to meet Sweet Pea though. What did you think of him?” She drew one leg up, pinning her ankle under her opposite thigh and twitching her foot nervously against the seat.

As attached to her independence as she was, Betty relied deeply and openly on her friends’ opinions. Maybe she hadn’t heeded Kevin’s warning about getting involved with a Serpent, but she still liked to know what her friends thought. Being around her new boyfriend had actually made Betty want to encourage honesty in herself and others. Secrets and deception had only ever gotten her into trouble. A little faint-heartedly, she also tried to communicate to Veronica with her eyes not to give her the very harshest version of the truth. Betty felt as though she’d fallen into this thing with Sweet Pea fast and hard enough that she wasn’t looking to be dissuaded. Like her boyfriend behind the wheel of Toni’s car, she didn’t want to be stopped, or even slowed if it was possible. She knew it might have been a little reckless of her and yet she felt entitled to that recklessness in a way she never had before. Hopefully not presenting herself as her boyfriend’s perfect opposite would be a better bet for her this time around.

“A little hard to read, to be honest,” Veronica responded with a pensive tilt of her head. “I might have assumed he was just a private person if not for the fact that not five minutes later he spanked you in front of us all.”

Betty groaned in embarrassment, dropping her chin to the tabletop and resting her flushed cheek against the tall, cold glass of her vanilla milkshake.

“God, V, don’t say ‘ _spanked_.’ You’re making it sound unnecessarily kinky,” she chastised as quietly as she could. Veronica gave her a disturbingly knowing look, so Betty pressed on. “What else though? Don’t you think there’s just… something about him?”

“There’s certainly something about the two of you _together_ ,” her friend shot back. “Facing off against me, Kevin, and Archie all at once seemed to put him on edge, but as soon as you appeared, it was like the rest of us just ceased to exist. Which,” she added in a tone of minor annoyance, “was a little disconcerting.”

“You don’t think he’s really, you know, dangerous though, right?” Betty’s eyebrows rose pleadingly.

Veronica took a long drink of her shake. Long enough to make Betty worry.

“Not for you,” she finally said, “but you weren’t at the Serpents/Bulldogs street fight.” She held raised a hand, palm up, ostensibly weighing the memory. “To be fair, it was raining and there were a lot of flailing limbs, but I know that Sweet Pea was one of the ones right in the thick of it.”

“But so was Archie,” Betty replied defensively.

“Archie wasn’t the one who showed up on Sweet Pea’s doorstep looking for a fight,” Veronica pointed out, posture stiffening.

“Why don’t we just… leave the past out of this?” Betty suggested in a voice of exaggerated calmness. “You and I have fought before and I never want to go back there.”

“Me neither,” Veronica immediately agreed. “And I want to make this relationship as un- _West Side Story_ -ish as possible for you.” She laughed and Betty smiled gratefully. “So you really just went for a drive?”

For a moment, Betty marvelled at her friend’s capacity to forgive and forget, then allowed her to carry them back into the conversation they’d started out having by phone.

“We really did,” Betty assured her. “Then we said goodnight, we kissed, and I went up to bed.” She shrugged, smiling.

“But you’re at least going to tell me that he couldn’t stop texting you, or that he called you before he went to sleep because he just wanted to hear your voice, right?” Veronica prompted.

“He said he didn’t want to text me―”

“What?” Veronica butted in, voice high and sharp as a cymbal. Betty gave her a flat stare.

“Let me finish. He didn’t want to text me because he was afraid of falling asleep and leaving me waiting. He said he didn’t want to disappoint me.” Betty made an _isn’t that adorable_ face to Veronica which led to an immediate, synchronized, venerating squealing. “And you can’t tell that to anyone. Not even Kevin.”

“Consider me sworn to secrecy,” Veronica declared, holding a hand to her heart. They were quiet for a minute, drinking their respective milkshakes. “Wow, I would never have thought it of him.” Her eyebrows flicked up and she returned to stirring her drink.

“I’m definitely surprised by his behaviour more often than not,” Betty admitted.

“And by your own when you’re with him, I’m guessing.” Veronica shared one of her perspicacious smiles. “I can tell,” she said, when Betty looked at her inquiringly.

“Tell what?”

“That you’re head over heels.”

Betty rolled her eyes, though she was smiling. Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her open jacket and she retrieved it. Texts from Sweet Pea. Veronica read that much in her face while Betty scanned the actual content of his messages. He wanted to see her. She glanced up at her friend.

“Do you mind if I―”

“Go,” Veronica encouraged, laughing. “I’m supposed to meet Archie this afternoon anyway, then he’s coming over for supper.”

“That’s great, V,” Betty said, squeezing her friend’s hand as she slurped the last of her drink and rose from their booth. “Look at us,” she remarked before leaving. “So much has happened and having a chat over a milkshake at Pop’s is still our go-to.”

“You know what they say. _Plus ça change_.” Veronica waved her hand airily.

Betty hurried off, feeling like her friend was completely correct about their dynamic. She and Veronica had developed and strengthened a bond that had remained solidly reliable while everything else was up in the air. However, she wasn’t sold on the universal truism of the phrase. As far as Betty could tell, other parts of her life were still changing, shifting like tectonic plates, in a way that made staying the same seem impossible. And anyway, it felt about time for something new.

* * *

It was starting to snow when he met her halfway between the Northside diner and the Southside bar, stingy February flakes swooshing in every direction through air that burnt the inside of his nose to breathe. Sweet Pea’s plan had been to wait for Betty in the heart of Serpent territory, to sit by a window so the bright daylight could warm his face without him having to step out into the biting cold that went with it, but he’d barely been able to stand still since texting her, let alone _sit_ still. What the weather had suggested, the sight of Betty’s face confirmed: there always seemed to be something a little painful in beauty; the wind tossed his girl’s hair as she came towards him and his insides flopped around like clothes in a drier.

“Don’t tell me you’re cold,” he joked when she stopped in front of him on the sidewalk and shivered.

“I think I’m finally getting used to it actually,” Betty protested, though she nuzzled her chin down into her scarf. “Pop’s is always so warm that it takes me a while to adjust again after―”

Sweet Pea tugged the front of her scarf down and interrupted her with a kiss. After a second, he felt Betty grab hold of the front of his jacket, pulling him in. He smiled against her mouth.

“So what’s the big hurry?” she asked, a little breathless. “Why did I have to come right over?”

“I just showed you why.” He smirked down at her and Betty raised a mittened hand to sweep gathering snowflakes off his head with an expression of serious concentration. It threw him off, but her attention felt good. “If you’re warm enough,” he went on, “we could stay outside for a while.”

Betty shrugged, giving him a considering look as he drew her against his side and started walking. Once he’d settled his arm comfortably around her, Sweet Pea kept his eyes forward, letting her take her time.

“As long as you’re not trying to avoid anyone seeing us together.” She said it subtly, not quite accusing. He narrowed his eyes and glanced over at her.

“You’re the same girl I was with last night, aren’t you? You should know that the possibility of people seeing you with me isn’t exactly something that scares me.”

“But, I mean, that was a pretty specific circumstance…” Was she blushing? It was hard to tell since her face was already pink from being outside.

“If there was any reason for me not to want people to see us it would be to, I don’t know, spare my friends the jealousy.” He watched as she shook her head disbelievingly. “And, ok fine, maybe also to spare you from hearing some of their… um… suggestions to me.”

She turned her head to stare up at him with a frown. He raised his eyebrows and saw in her face the second it clicked.

“Ah.” Betty’s green eyes widened.

“You have no idea,” he said seriously, leading her away from the sidewalk. “They’ve given me so many ideas, I’m going to have to start writing them down.” The corner of his mouth slid up into a grin.

“Oh my god, stop,” she told Sweet Pea, laughing and slipping out of his hold to brush past him. “I don’t want to know!”

He wondered if it was his words making Betty nervous, or his body half-wrapped around hers. To test it, he rushed after her and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off the ground. She shrieked, clinging to his arms until he let her feet touch ground again. Still, he held onto her from behind, bending to press his cheek to her temple.

“You don’t want to know? Is that what you said?” He had sucked in cold air too fast and his voice came out ragged.

“I thought you wanted to spare me from their suggestions,” she shot back. It made Sweet Pea smile into her hair to see how tough she was acting in his hold. Betty was good at hiding feelings of intimidation, obviously, but he wanted to know― _had_ to know―if there were other feelings she was trying to hide right then.

“What about from _my_ suggestions?” A hunger rose in him and he had to let Betty go before he could say too much, wiping a hand across his face to clear his head.

Glancing back at him with an expression he didn’t understand, she continued forward into the park he’d been heading to. It wasn’t much more than an infrequently mown lawn and a basic, ancient swing set, which would probably give anyone who touched the metal at this time of the year instant frostbite, but it was a neighbourhood landmark. Hell, the Serpents’ kids had to go someplace before they were old enough to be allowed into the Wyrm. Nobody was around today though. Sweet Pea followed Betty, crispy, icy grass snapping under his shoes. She had stopped by one of the swings and he shook the rubbery seat, then ran his sleeve over it to clear it of snow before she sat. Without spoken agreement, she took her feet off the ground and he began to push her steadily.

“Let’s hear your suggestions,” she called into the cold air when he’d gotten her swinging to about half the height it would take to go flying over the top bar and wrap the swing around it. It was something he’d always challenged his friends to do when he was a kid, and accepted any challenge to do it himself. There was no better sensation than feeling like you were taking your life in your hands in that moment before freefall kicked in and gravity let you hang out way up above everything. By the sounds of it, just being on the swing was lending his girl some of that same eager recklessness.

“What, shout them?” he asked doubtfully, propelling her up towards the sky again.

“Yes!”

“Without getting to see your reaction? I don’t fucking think so.”

Sweet Pea abandoned his post and came around to the front. Betty didn’t kick her feet, watching him, and started to slow down. Before it was 100% safe to do so, he rushed forward and grabbed the chains suspending her seat. It jostled her badly enough that he nearly got a boot to the groin, but he didn’t acknowledge the close call, just dropped his hands from the freezing chains to her denim-covered knees and pushed them apart so he could stand between her legs.

“What are you doing?” she exclaimed, laughing incredulously. Sweet Pea didn’t speak, only stared hard into her eyes and pulled her up, keeping her against him with a hand on her ass.

“You asked for my suggestions.”

Betty licked her bottom lip, moving her hands up his arms to his shoulders.

“And you’re going to tell me?”

He smirked.

“No.”

“No?” she echoed. Sweet Pea thought she almost looked relieved, maybe thought he was going to protect her from the urges within him that he’d barely begun to reveal the night before. Maybe thought he’d give her room to get familiar with him, give it and give it and give it until nothing he said startled her or made the colour flood her face like it was doing now. Maybe thought he was just another Jughead Jones.

“Don’t you _know_ what I want?” he demanded of her. Betty’s eyelashes fluttered and Sweet Pea leaned his face over hers to protect her in case there was snow blowing into her eyes. Pale sunlight made her hair golden.

Rather than answering, she stretched up and kissed him. Sweet Pea moved her away from the swing and backed her into one of the poles. She was working her mouth against his in a way that didn’t seem too indecisive, so Sweet Pea dug his fingers harder into her ass and slipped his other hand up under her coat. Dick stiffening, he pushed her sweater out of the way, intending to grope north towards her boobs. When he touched her bare skin with his hand, however, Betty flinched from the cold, making her body clench inward. Even with his eyes closed, Sweet Pea could feel the hollow her reaction had created, knew how her abdomen would have jerked away from the waist of her jeans. His palm ran south instead and Betty made his lips vibrate with her moan as his hand snuck over the shape of her. She was hot between her legs and with a little persuasive rubbing, wet through her underwear.

“You know what I want,” he rephrased in a mumble next to her ear.

“I think I understand the general idea,” Betty said, surprising him into a grin with her coyness as her eyes locked with his. She removed her mitt with her teeth and held it there while she gripped his wrist and extracted his hand from her jeans. Sweet Pea was sure he was being told to _back the fuck off_ until it was _her_ hand darting down _his_ jeans. He nearly choked when she lightly squeezed his cock through his boxers. His eyes closed and he heard himself exhale loudly when her hand ran slowly down his length and up again. With a slight jolt, she withdrew her hand, which was when he opened his eyes just enough to glare at her. Betty pulled her mitten back on with a wink. Leaning her hips firmly into his, she wiggled out from between him and the pole. If not for the early February cold snap, he would have dragged her right back instead of standing there and letting her tease him. He’d have to watch this one, that was for damn sure. No more going easy on her.

“I have some fact checking for the _Blue and Gold_ I want to finish before supper. You can walk me back as far as Pop’s.”

“Bullshit,” he argued. “You can walk _me_ back as far as the Wyrm.”

Yet when they got to the sidewalk, he let Betty burrow a bare hand into his pocket to join fingers with him. And then he let her turn them north.


	12. V-Day

XII

Week after week, it became easier for Sweet Pea to keep his head down and his nose clean at Riverdale High. He did most of his homework most of the time and came to school without a switchblade, even though the building didn’t have metal detectors. Northsiders and Southsiders alike ribbed him about his apparently reformed behaviour, but the rest of the Serpents were falling in line, following his example. It made Sweet Pea think they were getting a feel for their identity again, even if they’d had to adapt. Only two things seemed capable of fucking with his new routine: too much time spent immersed in the gang and fluctuations in his girlfriend’s impeccable behaviour (if Sweet Pea was a role model for the Serpents, Betty Cooper was a role model for him).

Unfortunately, the weekend before Valentine’s Day saw both of those happen. On the girlfriend front, it wasn’t that Betty had done anything _wrong_ , but that her Saturday afternoon teasing had plagued him through the night and made him intolerable to his friends for the rest of the weekend. By Monday, he was restless, less concerned with math class than with finding ways to get Betty’s attention during it, though her seat was two rows up and one row over from his. By Tuesday, it was worse. His morning was about resisting the impulse to run his hands up the legs of the tight black jeans Betty wore. His afternoon was about not waylaying her on her way home like the wolf to Betty’s Little Red Riding Hood, luring her off the path and ravaging her in the woods―just not in the eating sense of the word. The fantasies progressed, but Sweet Pea thought he’d kept his shit together. Until night. When he opened his mouth to heckle Fangs’s piss poor attempt at Mortal Kombat and heard himself pulling rank and calling a counsel of the younger Serpents instead.

Since the dance, he and Jones hadn’t exactly worked out which of them was Tyler Durden and which The Narrator, but Sweet Pea knew what he wanted to make happen, and that he’d have maximum Serpent support if he could get Jones on side. He presented the idea loosely: “What if we do a little sabotage job on Riverdale High?” Floated it, mischievously, and saw certain identifiable troublemakers in the group get that shit-disturbing gleam in their eyes. It was like pulling the trigger on a loaded gun; suggestions started flying and it was on Jones―the logical one (the drag)―to interfere and corral them. For Sweet Pea, this was perfect. As long as things worked out, he could let Jones run the show now then take the credit back later. He waited for the shift from Jones telling them all that they were insane to him correcting their bat-shit early schemes with his own improved ideas. _That’s it_ , Sweet Pea thought with a slow grin as he slumped back in his chair. _You tell ‘em, Jones._ The clincher was when Toni, sensing that her pet pseudo-Serpent was swaying the group, threw in some social justice bullshit, turning the project from a prank to a demonstration of inequality between Riverdale High and the late, not-so-great Southside High. And what a time to highlight it, when there was about to be a turnover in the mayor’s office. Sweet Pea was content to nod enthusiastically and then glance away when Toni tried to catch his eye. She probably saw right through him anyway, but he figured he might as well half-ass the effort of maintaining the illusion.

They went with flooding the school (after Jones nixed graffiti as ‘too messy’ and arson as ‘too criminal’) and mobilized that night, breaking into Riverdale High and cranking every faucet on full. They could’ve busted the handles off―some of the Serpents argued hard in favour―but it was Sweet Pea who rejected this inflexibly; he wanted the school closed for a day or two, maybe stretching to an extra-long weekend, not _forever_. They snuck in and snuck out (apart from a couple of dumbasses who ran whooping down the hallways), shadows with toxic-green snakes stitched to their backs, and Sweet Pea was thankful for the second time that there were no cameras. No cameras and a handful of rowdy junior gang members roaming the halls every day? The school had practically been begging to be vandalized and the merciful Serpents were happy to oblige. A sufficient amount of time had passed since the last wild thing they’d done that Sweet Pea was buzzed enough from adrenaline to thump Jones fraternally on the back―and not even be doing it in an attempt to knock him straight forward on his face. Getting to sleep that night was pretty tough, but knowing that, in the absence of school, he’d be monopolizing Betty the next day made it possible. Well, that and rubbing one out to the (maybe optimistically) imaginative specifics of how their day together might go.

Sweet Pea was sprawled across his bed, stomach down, when a call from Betty woke him up Wednesday morning. He hadn’t turned on his usual before-school alarm because why bother? Who was he trying to fool? Like the reporter-in-training Betty was, she told him she’d been one of the first on the scene, going in early to―shocker―work on a piece for the _Blue and Gold_. After her little lead-in, she dropped the bomb. Or, water balloon, a little more appropriately.

“School’s cancelled today. Probably tomorrow too.” She didn’t sound upset, but definitely eager to be breaking this news.

“Oh shit,” Sweet Pea mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his fist.

“Yeah. I didn’t see inside, but I heard it was a problem with water. Flooding, maybe. Apparently they’re even worried about it freezing over in areas that aren’t as well-heated.”

“Bummer,” he cheerfully pronounced, already smirking. With barely a breath in between, he added, “What time am I picking you up?”

* * *

With school cancelled, Betty had rushed home and found her parents getting ready for work like normal. They’d be going to the _Register_ , probably even doing a rush item on the Riverdale High flooding. Betty had felt like she should be doing the same, though for her own paper, except her mother had been just as insistent about her taking the day off as Sweet Pea had been; no chance of a joint effort though, since she was fairly certain her parents didn’t know of her boyfriend’s existence. It’d been pretty unsettling when Alice Cooper of all people had told her to “go tobogganing or something.” Betty’d had to remind her mom that it wasn’t a snow day, the cancellation having been caused by interior rather than exterior precipitation, but Alice had continued to push her to get out of the house and spend time with friends. _Jeeze_ , Betty’d thought, _you take down one serial killer and all of a sudden your family’s afraid of leaving you alone._ Cluing her parents in to the fact that she’d be spending the day with a Serpent seemed unnecessarily complicated when it was so much easier to just let her mom talk and talk, somewhere in there implying that she could go hang out with Kevin. It didn’t strike her as vital that she explain her nod was an acknowledgement that yes, she _could_ go hang out with Kevin and not a signal that she was actually planning to do so. Soon enough, her mom and dad were out the door and Betty was racing upstairs to get ready during the short window between her parents’ departure and Sweet Pea’s anticipated arrival.

There was no denying that things had been heating up between herself and her boyfriend, and Betty wanted her outfit choice to reflect it. If she couldn’t do that on Valentine’s Day, when could she? The weather was warming as well, jumping to a midpoint between freezing and spring-like with Saturday’s sparse dusting of snow long melted, so she set aside a jacket that was long but lightweight to throw on once she’d dressed for the second time that morning. _Ok_ , Betty told herself, pulling open her drawer of intimates, _no chickening out now._ Out came a sheer black set―a softer take on what she’d worn to the Whyte Wyrm that had first caught Sweet Pea’s attention. Like the brief, half-embarrassed moments when she’d been contemplating her pole dance, Betty paused to assess herself in the mirror, moving her hands and hair and imagining Sweet Pea staring back at her. That last part was new. She added a black top with a deep V-neck, massively departing from her habitual pastel crewnecks, then waffled between jeans and a skirt. Jeans, skirt. Jeans, skirt. She couldn’t decide and stared at the items laid out on her bedspread long enough that she actually started to make herself anxious and had to step away to spritz on her perfume and calm down. Then Sweet Pea texted that he was outside. Skirt was the hasty verdict, with her figuring her longer outer layer would keep her warm. Betty collected her shoes, purse, coat, and, just before leaving the house, double-checked that the clear plastic circle of her Wednesday pill was empty and depressed―exactly the opposite of how she felt when she stepped outside and saw Sweet Pea leaning against his car.

He waited until she was at the curb to wolf whistle softly, though she couldn’t imagine he could see much more than a little bare leg. Maybe it was the heels? They were certainly handy height-wise when she leaned in and kissed him while he remained reclined against the passenger door, not exactly helping but greedily absorbing her weight against his with hands that were already trying to slip inside her coat. Betty pulled back, smiling, eyes not fully open yet.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Yes,” Sweet Pea agreed.

“That wasn’t a question,” Betty pointed out as she drew away from him completely, regained her balance, and hauled open the passenger door once Sweet Pea had pushed off of it. He stepped, grinning to himself, around the front of the car and settled into the driver’s seat.

“You always drive,” she noted as they pulled away from her house.

“Yep.”

“Still not a question.” He didn’t reply, apparently focused on the road, so Betty went on. “I can drive, you know.”

“I’d hope so, or else what’s the point of having all that mechanical knowledge?”

Betty frowned.

“Well, it’s useful―”

“Rhetorical,” he cut in, reaching over to squeeze her bare knee. Betty rolled her eyes and stared fixedly out the windshield, ignoring (with great effort) Sweet Pea’s attempts to catch her eye in the rear-view mirror. She couldn’t really pretend to be mad though, not with him in the next seat and the whole, beautiful, school-free day ahead of them.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Betty said after a couple of minutes had gone by. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Um, yeah, you too.” He seemed a little uncomfortable. Possibly less of a traditionalist than she was.

“Is anything…” she waited for him to jump in, “…wrong?”

“I didn’t get you anything,” he confessed. The worry Betty had felt clouding her face disappeared.

“Really?” she countered. It might have been cruel to play with him like this, but she couldn’t help herself.

“No.” He looked over at her as they came to a stop sign and she saw the beginnings of suspicion in his eyes.

“You didn’t get me, say, a day off from school?” Grinning, she watched him tense up, eyes darting nervously. After the most fleeting of eternities, his shoulders relaxed. Betty thought about running her hands over them.

“Oh that,” he acknowledged casually. Betty snorted a laugh. “What?” He turned his head quickly to glance at her.

“Nothing,” she said, still laughing lightly. “You just flooded an entire building for me. No big deal.”

He shook his head.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”

Her eyebrows raised incredulously.

“I am?”

“Yep. I did that for myself.”

“Of course. I forgot how selfish you are,” she joked, remembering his early action of offering her his Serpents jacket to keep her warm.

“You’ll learn.” He shrugged, smiling.

“So what’s on your totally self-serving agenda for today?”

“I thought I’d bring you by the Wyrm. Introduce you to everyone. Trial by fire.”

“Funny.” Betty swatted his leg, but he grabbed her hand and held it, rather affectionately, she thought.

“I’m not just a pretty face. _Maybe_ I should’ve kept my mouth shut about the school thing though.”

She was surprised to hear him voicing his thoughts to her. Immediately interested, she kept her eyes on his face.

“Do you think I’m going to turn you in?”

Sweet Pea stared hard at her for a few seconds and Betty tried not to blink.

“No,” he concluded, watching the road again.

“Then why―”

“Plausible deniability.” Evidently reading surprise on her face, Sweet Pea explained. “Yeah, I know all about it. I know people have kept me in the dark about stuff for my own good. Sort of comes with being a member of the Serpents.”

She knew this should make her concerned, but all Betty really heard was his regret at not protecting her by keeping her ignorant of his crime, though it was a relatively small one. Apparently, this was too much for Sweet Pea to come right out and say at this point, but that was alright.

“And I thought you guys only joined to get a cool jacket,” she remarked sarcastically. It made him smile.

“Nah, the jacket’s only like… 80% of it.”

She let Sweet Pea have his moment to bask in his own cleverness, then redirected their conversation.

“What are we really doing today? Even if it’s nothing, that’s fine with me.”

“Why do you need to know so bad? Trying to distract yourself from pining for Phys. Ed. and World History?” Before she could defend herself, he added, “Don’t worry, Betty. I promise to get you _at least_ as wet as going to school today would’ve.”

For over a minute, she sat in stunned silence.

In terms of date (on the 14th of February, could she call it anything else?) structure, it _was_ closer to nothing than something, but as Betty had professed, she really didn’t mind. They talked, they drove, they flirted, they had lunch at Pop’s (with minimal convincing by Betty), and they flirted some more. By late afternoon, Sweet Pea revealed that he did have the tiniest bit of a plan, and that it involved them driving as close as they could to Sweetwater River. What Betty added to the plan was anxiously calling her boyfriend’s attention to the fact that the trails he was driving down to get near the bank weren’t actually meant for cars. Her one relief was that he at least drove more slowly off the infrastructural roads of Riverdale than on them.

When Sweet Pea parked, Betty realized that his timing had been planned as well as their vantage point of the river, which was really very lovely. The day had been sunny all the way through, but in the cold blue tones of winter; now, the light hitting the water and lingering above the trees was richly golden. He surprised her by pulling a seemingly endless striped blanket out of the trunk and spreading it across the hood of the car, where they climbed up and seated themselves, backs against the windshield, like a foodless aboveground picnic. Studying her face, Sweet Pea put his arm around Betty, getting her to lean into him almost as much as she was leaning into the car, then grabbed the edge of the blanket and flipped it over her partially-exposed legs.

“I guess even Serpents need their creature comforts,” she remarked with a smile, glancing pointedly at the blanket.

“Snakes are coldblooded,” he reminded her, stretching his long legs out across the hood.

“Even you?” Betty’s gaze swept slowly over his face, watching the light brighten his dark eyes even as he squinted against it. He looked back at her, adjusting his mouth so she could tell he was trying to supress a smile.

“Definitely.”

Suddenly, her heart was pounding.

“So I should stay close?”

“Probably a good idea.” His fingers found her hip, which he gripped tightly.

“How close?” Betty propped herself up from the car and raised the leg farthest from Sweet Pea, draping it over his so they crossed below the knee. He smirked, giving her that intense look of his.

“I’ll say when.”

The look in his eye screamed that he was daring her. Betty wasn’t much for backing down. Shifting on her hip, she rested her upper body more fully on his while his hand smoothed up her back. Sweet Pea’s eyes were bright, excited, and she moved her face closer to his.

“I just don’t want to get, you know,” she breathed, shyly pushing his hair back from his face, “ _too_ close.”

“No such thing.”

With no hesitation, he brought his hand to the back of her neck and kissed her hungrily. Betty sunk, physically _sunk_ , into the kiss, trusting in Sweet Pea to hold her up or pull her down as he saw fit. After hours of escalating flirtations, it was none too startling when he chose the latter. His hands clutched at her, but before she could give in, she needed a little clarity.

“We’re not really just going to sit here and watch the sun set, are we?”

Betty’s hand against his cheek, Sweet Pea shook his head.

“I’m not that selflessly romantic.”

He reached for the front of her coat, undoing it and purposely (it seemed to her) shunning the sense of delicacy that would prevent a more tactful man from feeling her up at the same time. With her outer layer open all the way down, Sweet Pea’s gaze dropped shamelessly to the lowest part of her top’s V, just as it had when she’d removed her coat earlier at Pop’s. She blushed as much as she had then, but this time edged her leg up his then slipped it across his lap, grabbing his shoulders to seat herself on his thighs. All the time, Sweet Pea’s smile grew, his eyes going from her cleavage to her face. Betty had to wonder whose compulsion she seemed to be under, his or her own. When he held her hips, encouraging her forward, she thought _his_. When their hips bumped together and she felt the rigid length of him between her legs (though they both had layers in between), she thought the persuasion to be near him was definitely her own. When he started kissing her again, fingers fluttering the hem of her skirt, it became too confusing to keep track, so Betty just sighed and unzipped his Serpents jacket, sliding her hands in under the leather to press against his solid chest.

Apparently, Sweet Pea liked that, groaning gently against her mouth as his hands skated up to cup her breasts. Holding fast to the back of his neck and playing with the ends his hair with one hand, Betty lowered the other to unbutton his loose plaid shirt. Underneath were the firm planes of his chest and she felt her heart rabbit around under her own skin as she skimmed her fingers over his. Pulling her closer, Sweet Pea lowered his mouth to nuzzle his nose into her neck. Betty breathed hard, holding his head there and feeling pleased with herself that she’d remembered to wear perfume. Soon, he sought farther down, tugging back the neckline of her shirt to sate his curiosity. Betty knew her nipples would be unignorably peaked in her sheer black bra and dealt with the onset of embarrassment by grinding down on Sweet Pea’s erection; the jolt of pleasure through her body made her far less reticent to be seen, touched, or, ideally, both.

Delay didn’t seem to appeal to Sweet Pea either, not once Betty’d started leveraging the power she wielded with her thighs parted across his lap. He shoved the coat from her shoulders, hasty fingers peeling up the hem of her top. It occurred to Betty, through her surge of lustful desperation, that though they appeared to be alone, the riverside was still a public place. When she spoke her concerns to her boyfriend, he swore he’d keep her covered up with her coat… once he was allowed to remove everything underneath it. She deliberated mere seconds before letting him whisk the shirt over her head. True to his word, Sweet Pea then draped Betty’s coat back over her shoulders, locking eyes with her as he slipped down each of the straps of her bra in turn.

“I like this,” he said, fingering the edge of one of the unlined cups. “Now come here.” Mesmerized by his tone and blatant admiration, Betty leaned forward and felt Sweet Pea unhook her clasp. He eyed the garment as he set it aside, just giving Betty time to shiver in anticipation before he turned back to her.

Scooping his fingers into her hair, he pulled her roughly to him, her breasts compressed against the warm skin of his chest. With his body in front of her and the late heat of the sun on her back, Betty hadn’t even had a chance to get cold. For a few leisurely moments, she ran her fingers through his hair, scratching her nails repeatedly at the back of his head when she found it made him buck up against her. In turn, she squeezed her knees against his hips, then ran her hands down his torso to unfasten the fly of his jeans. There was a pause, a beat where they looked into each other’s eyes and felt the pull of the cliff’s edge they were standing on. Sweet Pea bit his lip hard―she could tell by the way it reddened deeper than her kisses had left it―and snuck a hand under her skirt, rubbing his thumb high up her inner thigh. Holding his gaze, Betty pushed her hand into his boxers and stroked him deliberately. His lip twitched up, almost into a sneer, then he let out a belated groan that urged her on. She closed her grip and increased her pace while he pressed his fingertips to her clit over her underwear. Betty leaned in to kiss his neck, tracing the Serpents tattoo with her tongue.

“Did you ever…” he panted, “… with Jughead?” She drew back so she could see his face. “I want this Betty, so bad,” Sweet Pea continued, “but I gotta know.”

She sat back, crossing her arms over her bare chest so the seriousness of his question wouldn’t be compromised.

“I slept at his place, just once, but we didn’t, um…” Betty shook her head.

“You don’t have to say it,” Sweet Pea told her with unusual gentleness. “I’d actually rather you didn’t.” He laughed, pulling her hands down one at a time (he only had one free hand, the other brushing distractedly against her thigh).

“Right,” she agreed with a lazy smile, “the selfish non-romantic.”

Sweet Pea shrugged, his hand sliding up her ribcage.

“I think it works for me.”

“And I think you’re underestimating yourself. This was your idea.” Betty glanced over her shoulder, waving her arm to indicate the scene he’d set up for them: the river almost perfectly still, the sky turning an aggressive pink near the horizon. “Look at this,” she demanded, turning back to him.

With an expression of helpless surrender, he said, “I can’t,” staring at her and no farther.

Unsure whether her body was trying to laugh or sob, Betty gasped and threw her arms around Sweet Pea’s neck, kissing him hard. With frantic fidgeting she was barely aware of, so great was her passion in that moment, he divested her of skirt and remaining lingerie. She grabbed the waist of his boxers and jeans, yanking hard enough to leave scratches in the skin of his hips. He fumbled with a condom snatched from his jeans pocket as she shoved them down his legs, then dipped his fingers shallowly into her entrance when she stilled in his lap, dragging firmly across her clit and pumping into her with one, and then two. Finally, he dragged her hips over his, making Betty take hold of his cock to guide him inside her, his stare fixed between her legs as their bodies adjusted to one another.

For Betty, it was a biting, clawing sensation, making her forehead scrunch up. She quickly realized letting Sweet Pea push deeper into her channel was no worse than keeping him in limbo, a little in and mostly out, so she bravely (she thought) forced her knees away from the comforting hold they’d established on either side of his hips. Immediately, everything felt better. In her widened position, her muscles relaxed and she sunk down snugly around him. Sweet Pea wasn’t shy about cursing as his length filled her, nor about the abrupt grope he gave her breasts, looking nowhere near sheepish when she caught his eye. Betty wiggled a little in his lap, testing the tight hold she had on him and learning it wasn’t just physical when he wrapped his arms around her waist with a hoarse sigh. Beneath her coat, his hands smoothed up and down her back and Betty did some preliminary rocking, feeling her body clench around Sweet Pea as vehemently as it had at first seemed to reject him. A particular tilt of her hips on a downward pitch had Betty feeling hot and greedy. Instantly, she upped her pace, making Sweet Pea swear again and louder this time, his hands going for her hips to do his share of the maneuvering. A little didn’t seem to be enough and soon, although _she_ was on top, it was he who was angling her based on the instruction of her moans, he who was jerking his hips up from below. When he felt between them and trapped her swollen clit under his fingertips, Betty clung to his neck and cried out, sucking in his sharp, fresh smell.

Then he was mumbling things to her, straining up to plunge slickly into her again and again, his hands scrambling over her flushed skin. Betty couldn’t seem to unlock her arms, even her eyes clamping shut as she uninhibitedly rode him. She felt his fingers dig into her hair. Deliriously, she lowered one arm, trailing her fingers down over his abs through the gap in his jacket and shirt, still hanging on his body.

“Look at me,” he burst out between the exertions of his upward thrusts. Betty raised her head and Sweet Pea turned his to stare intensely into her eyes, their faces inches apart.

Maybe there was more to be said, but Betty moaned, collapsing in or shattering out, she couldn’t tell. Definitely climaxing though, better than he’d made her when they’d absconded during the dance. The sensation moved through her, sweeter than his name, while Sweet Pea took his fingers from between her legs, stroking his cheek animalistically along Betty’s as he let go deep inside her. He held her hard against him and wouldn’t let go, even when he slumped back onto the windshield and brought her with him. For a satisfyingly long time, they laid still and breathed, their rhythms sometimes together, sometimes in conflict.

When Sweet Pea helped Betty ease off of him, she looked around for the first time in ages and saw it was nearly dark. Meanwhile, he re-dressed his lower half and chucked the condom in a trailside trashcan.

“I didn’t realized it was so late,” she said, pulling her coat closed and tucking her legs to the side.

“Do you have to get home?” Sweet Pea stood at the front of the car, hands deep in his pockets and shirt open in a way Betty knew she’d still be thinking about later. She propped her chin on her fist appreciatively, eyes hesitant to leave his body.

“No. Do _you_ have to be anywhere? Any other schools that need flooding?”

He snorted, his laughter drifting cleanly to her ears out here away from everything else.

“You want me to get caught? You gotta space that shit out.”

Sweet Pea came around the car, reaching out a hand to run his palm down her leg as he passed her. Betty turned her head to observe him.

“We should get you inside,” he said with a presumptuous tilt of his head, opening the car door. It wasn’t to the front seat.


	13. Return to the Wyrm

XIII

From the passenger seat, Betty was staring at him with a look of admiration which, honestly, Sweet Pea felt he deserved. It was actually pretty hard not to stare back, or even to heave her over the console and sit her on his lap. He felt fairly certain that, logistically, he’d still be able to drive fine with her there, but it’d be a serious distraction and he needed to concentrate to navigate back through this goddamn forest to get to the road. He liked to cook up a good idea and immediately act; the full follow-through wasn’t really his strong point. Still, as long as he didn’t drive head-on into a tree, Sweet Pea felt confident that Betty’d keep looking at him the way she was. After their opening act on the hood (which he just _knew_ would be giving him pin-up-style fantasies of his girl perched there in what she’d been wearing tonight), he’d wanted to give it to her again. However, considering her status as Recent Virgin, he’d had to rethink a little, going for a combination of thoroughly fondling her boobs and making the fuck out. No, Betty hadn’t explicitly said she was too sore, but Sweet Pea had the cockiness (in every sense of the word he could think of) to both expect and accept it.

Despite his sincere intention of sensitivity, he’d been hard again before he could even get her coat open. In the backseat on a school night with Betty Cooper? How the fuck could he not? While the almost furious intensity of their kissing did seem to awaken the romantic in his girlfriend, it also awoke her curiosity. Plus, there was the setting. With Sweet Pea’s height and their combined… verve… within the confines of a car, the situation demanded that they get a little creative. It turned out that folding down the passenger seat and having her sit on its horizontal surface put Betty at a great height for hitching her parted thighs over his while he sat in the back. He could admire her fully and run his hands all over her chest while she got his dick out and stroked him off (with surprising determination, once she got started). And damn, had she been a vision. To think he’d always assumed it’d be the Serpents who led him to a life of crime; looking at her, catching her swaying blonde hair in his fingers, Sweet Pea knew he’d flood another school for her in a heartbeat. Watching her mouth, he’d had some strong urges to feel that on him too, but hell, Betty was worth waiting for. He should’ve guessed it the first moment he’d seen her.

“You’re ok with going, right? I know I was just joking about it before…” His stupid leg was jiggling up and down as he drove.

“It’s fine. I’ve been to the Whyte Wyrm before and I… don’t really want to go home yet anyway.” Sweet Pea glanced over and she gave him a warm smile.

“Alright then.”

He knew how Betty felt, he just couldn’t say it. What he really needed to do was snap out of the haze he was in before they got to the Wyrm or risk extreme―and possibly everlasting―embarrassment. Obviously, he shouldn’t have been taking her there at all, knowing that to show how he was currently feeling to the other Serpents would be to potentially blow his image to hell forever. Gripping the steering wheel, Sweet Pea knew he simply couldn’t help it. He glanced sideways at Betty. She looked hot and wouldn’t stick out like she had the last time she was there. Hopefully, keeping her clothes on this time would help. The more he looked at her, the more he felt that sense of possession that was stopping him from using his better judgement and driving her straight home. Was he proud of himself for getting her to be his girlfriend? Yes. Was part of the appeal of taking her to the Wyrm to rub their relationship in Jones’s face? _Hell_ yes. The main danger in the plan was not knowing where to put everything Betty was making him feel. It seemed vitally important that he maintain the ability to glare his friends into submission, but could he manage it if he showed up with her?

“You look worried,” Betty said out of nowhere.

He did? Fuck. He wasn’t supposed to be so transparent. Her hand gripped his shoulder. Unfamiliarly, the action was done to soothe him rather than threaten him, which was how he used it on others.

“I’m fine.” His voice came out bitterly cold, so he added, “Just trying not to miss my turn.”

Betty snorted.

“Liar.”

Luckily, it wasn’t that late, so the Wyrm wasn’t that busy. As soon as they arrived, Betty made for the bathroom, which might have been a blessing as it gave Sweet Pea a chance to head off the comments of the people who’d turned to stare at them when they came through the door. From his group of friends, Toni caught his eye and he flicked his gaze in the direction of the bathroom. Immediately understanding him, she went after Betty. Sweet Pea didn’t exactly expect Toni to act as his girlfriend’s bodyguard, but having a buffer between her Northsider doe eyes and the rough edges of this place couldn’t hurt. Besides, short of following her into the bathroom himself, Toni was the one he trusted next.

“Alright you sons of bitches, get it over with,” he barked, looming over the table of assholes giving him the smarmiest grins. Jones’s face wasn’t among them. His friends’ comments came in a round of wild hollers, making Sweet Pea feel like he was standing outside a zoo’s baboon enclosure. “I don’t want to hear a fucking thing when she gets back here,” he warned them when the noise died down, taking an empty chair. No point in standing over them the whole time; he wanted to scare the bastards, not make them wonder if he thought he was better than them now.

“ _If_ she comes back.”

“Do you want to see the inside of a dumpster tonight? ‘Cause I can arrange that for you,” he snapped. There was quiet for less than five seconds before someone went ‘ _Oooh_ ’ and they all started up again.

“Maybe she’s lost.”

“She’s not in Kansas anymore.”

“Man, you shouldn’t have reminded her you were a Serpent.”

“She’s probably in there making out with Toni.”

“Yeah, you want me to go check?”

“Fucking perve.”

Sweet Pea banged his fist on the table to shut up the various unwelcome contributors. They canned it, but he had a bad feeling they weren’t going to listen to him. He guessed he should have done more sooner to give them a chance to get to know Betty, and vice versa. Too late now. As he’d joked to his girlfriend hours before, it was going to have to be trial by fire.

* * *

“Betty!” F.P. called in an affable tone as she emerged from the washroom with Toni. “Alice with you tonight?”

Betty was a journalist in training. Sensitive. Observant. She knew it wasn’t politeness―or not _only_ politeness―that made the leader of the Southside Serpents shout a friendly greeting to her from across the room, ensuring the majority of the bar overheard him. Her first answer to him was a grateful smile as she approached, Toni sticking near her side. Betty knew _that_ wasn’t an accident either.

“No, not tonight.”

“Unfortunate,” he remarked, teasing her, she thought.

“Is it?” They laughed.

“Well, let her know she was missed. We don’t want Alice Cooper to make a stranger of herself again. Once in a lifetime is enough.”

At the directive that she pass on a message to her mother, Betty lowered her eyes nervously. F.P. picked up on it.

“She knows you’re here tonight, doesn’t she?” He leaned forward, giving her that serious parenting look she’d seen him bestow on Jughead in the past.

“She knows I’m out with a friend.” Betty attempted a casual shrug with little confidence as to its believability.

F.P.’s eyebrows rose.

“A friend, huh?” He glanced around and when his gaze settled, his smile rose a little too. “That explains some unusual behaviour lately.” Betty looked quickly over her shoulder, following F.P.’s line of sight. Sweet Pea was staring at her through a table of young Serpents she quickly identified as the Riverdale High transfers. “I’d avoid Jughead tonight. He’ll be as surprised to see you here as I am.”

Betty nodded, looking back at F.P., although the advice was obvious. Taking a deep breath, she headed for Sweet Pea’s table with Toni.

“Think of this like a staring contest,” her companion suggested. “Don’t blink.”

_Don’t blink_ , Betty thought, _right._ They might be her classmates when she was in school, but here they were Serpents first. Even Toni might not have been so kind if she hadn’t had some level of involvement in Betty and Sweet Pea’s relationship almost from the beginning. Standing among them, Betty whispered to Toni that she could go and sit down. Betty had a feeling it wouldn’t do her any favours to appear like she needed help. Sweet Pea certainly wasn’t treating her that way, just glancing around at the group with a neutral expression. She wondered what he was thinking.

“Hey, Sweet Pea,” one guy started, “I think the tourist is looking for somebody to take her home.”

Betty gave him an exaggeratedly pitying smile as if to say he could’ve done a lot better.

“Do you mean he should take her home or _take her home_?” another asked with a suggestive jump of his eyebrows. The others picked up the same thread.

“Don’t make her leave too soon. We haven’t seen her dance yet.”

A dark shape drew Betty’s eye. Jughead had come over, though he leaned against the wall rather than sitting at the table with the rest of them. She instantly looked away, not knowing what would happen if anyone else noticed him, but assuming the result wouldn’t be great. What could she do? With Jughead watching her, she felt less sure of herself, yet she could tell that this was a test, both of her and of her relationship to Sweet Pea. Since their activities in and on Sweet Pea’s car, it felt to Betty as though there was a great deal more at stake than before.

“I wouldn’t miss that,” someone said. Betty had to work to focus on their face. “I wonder what she’s got on under that coat.”

“Maybe nothing.”

A snickering went around the table. It was time to intercede on her own behalf, Betty could feel it as much as she could feel Sweet Pea’s presence, though she dared not look at him to save her.

“Maybe the fact that you’ll never know will help you get over it,” she said with a merciless shrug.

While the guy got laughed down by his friends, Betty sealed her untouchability by deciding to take a seat. The fact that there were no empty chairs forced her to commit to this game of not flinching and sit on Sweet Pea’s lap instead. She seated herself a little delicately, cautious of the residual ache between her legs, high up under the layers which earlier Sweet Pea had so zealously removed. Now she looked at him and found him smirking back at her for the way she’d just stood up for herself. Suddenly, he looked past her.

“Jones,” Sweet Pea hailed over his other friends’ heads. “Come sit down.”

Betty tensed, trying to figure out if things were about to get ugly. She watched her ex-boyfriend closely, saw him frown but not turn away. There was no way to make this easier for him and be happy herself. She’d gone down that road before and found it was a dead end. Then she understood what Sweet Pea was doing. He was giving Jones― _Jughead_ , she told herself, shrugging off Sweet Pea’s influence―the chance to claim his place in the group. Of course, Jughead being Jughead, he would never do exactly what someone else wanted.

“Enjoy it while you can,” he muttered in Sweet Pea’s direction as another guy got up for him and vacated a chair.

At her back, Sweet Pea kept silent until the moment had passed, but still Betty’s head was full of noise. She knew that Jughead wouldn’t stoop so low as to try to scare them just for the heck of it. He must have really believed that he was watching Betty repeat her mistake of being with him. She shifted in Sweet Pea’s lap and his hand came around to hold the top of her thigh. This was different though, wasn’t it? This time, she had someone who didn’t make such a big deal about the circles they moved in, the level of danger each of them might be exposed to, separately or together. Sweet Pea had brought her here to the Whyte Wyrm, willingly, eagerly! He’d wanted to and he’d done it. Betty really wanted to believe it was that simple, but as the group around her talked, she occasionally felt Jughead’s eyes on her and her doubts returned. Slowly, her gaze travelled over each of Sweet Pea’s friends. Their faces were joking or serious, their contributions to the conversation frequent or seldom, but they all wore jackets with emerald green snakes. As much as Betty altered her own look in an attempt to bridge the gap between her outer self and Sweet Pea’s, she wouldn’t really be like him without a Serpents jacket.

Her heart felt heavy and she sunk back against her boyfriend. When he said something teasing to Toni, seated on their right, Betty stole a glance at his untroubled face. Since they’d gotten together, Sweet Pea hadn’t given her any reason to worry, but was it because he was absolutely confident that things would work out, or was he a fool?

Was _she?_


	14. Challenges Great and Small

XIV

Riverdale High stayed closed just long enough to buy them a pair of short weeks and Sweet Pea went back to class feeling like he was returning from the kind of worry-free vacation no Serpent in history had ever been privileged enough to afford. In contrast to the Big Event on Valentine’s Day, he and Betty had cooled things off during the remainder of their little break. He’d noticed a change in her, beginning the same night she’d given it up to him; his girl was always quiet, steady, and composed, but she’d retreated somehow. By now, she’d levelled out, so he figured that maybe she’d just needed their old school routine to stop her from letting that persistent mind of hers wander. He was more than willing to be her strong, silent type of knight in shining armour or whatever bullshit cardboard cut-out superhero she needed while convincing himself that the rollercoaster-like plunge in her affection didn’t terrify him.

So when they got out of their morning classes and headed to the student lounge together, Sweet Pea took Betty’s hand and tried not to hold on too tight.

Down the hall, he spotted Archie and Veronica heading their way (forcing himself to think their names meant it was less likely he’d refer to them by disrespectful, off-the-cuff nicknames aloud). Sweet Pea glanced at Betty and knew she saw them too. Archie’s garish football jacket was over Veronica’s shoulders, which, with the difference in their statures, was giving Sweet Pea weird child-wearing-their-father’s-clothing vibes, but he felt Betty’s shoulder rise and fall against his and guessed the old school possessiveness the jacket implied was something she admired. He leaned down to speak near her ear.

“I’d give you my Serpents jacket to wear if it wasn’t banned in this place,” he told her. She smiled at him, looking more at ease than she had the moment before. Just inside the lounge, he kissed her quick and fierce, grinning against her lips when he felt her grip his arms to, he assumed, keep from swooning.

Although they were dating (and everyone knew it), and although they were now also doing it (and Sweet Pea wondered if everyone knew that too, just by the way he stood or the way he couldn’t stop looking at Betty), they still sat apart in the lounge. Sure, there’d been plenty of talk by Principal Whatshisname when the Southsiders were transferred, but Sweet Pea hadn’t seen any direct interference by the staff to get the students to properly welcome the outsiders. It was for damn certain that the two groups weren’t going to solve the integration issue on their own, and the Serpents were resolved to keep theirs a closed group with its eyes open. Normally, being able to immerse himself in his familiar friendships and even Jones’s stupid schemes was a highlight in his day, a little oasis in the sea of chin-dimpled, hair-perfectly-parted preppy assholes this school seemed to endlessly produce. Today, Sweet Pea settled among his comrades a little on edge. Not yet beaten down by a week of lessons and homework, the other Serpents were rowdy and smiling, and started teasing him about his broodier restlessness, calling it ‘girl trouble.’ The thing was, it wasn’t Betty he was thinking about.

Well, it was, but it was also Archie and Veronica. Even before Sweet Pea had been sharing the same ugly speckled hallways with them, he’d gotten a sort of downwind whiff about Riverdale High’s power couple. It was impossible to make himself cough up a fuck to give, and yet, shifting on a couch that didn’t smell like countless couples had banged on it (oh, how far they’d come from the common areas at Southside High), he wondered why he and Betty weren’t also a power couple. With Betty’s brains and his (occasionally contested) leadership of the young Serpents, Sweet Pea thought they definitely should be. There was a discontented feeling he had though. Why was the distance between them still so difficult to bridge? Was it him? Her? Both of them?

When he was thinking about Betty, he couldn’t help also staring at her. Jesus, she was pretty. As the room became more jammed with more students being dismissed from class, the conversation in his immediate circle lowered to a snake-like hiss, which was easy for Sweet Pea to tune out. He knew he wasn’t ignoring anything important―the Serpents liked to keep their voices low to make the rest of the student body worry about what they were saying, not because they were actually dumb enough to plan something important sitting in the middle of the lounge. He could care less about Toni whining over her bar-back schedule at the Wyrm, or Jones’s latest conspiracy theory. The feelings (he didn’t want to call them doubts) he was having about his relationship took precedence.

Maybe Betty felt Sweet Pea’s eyes on her, or maybe going to this freaky clean school had caused him to spontaneously develop telepathy and he was sending a signal straight to her brain, because suddenly, she glanced around, spotted him, and got up. Sweet Pea rubbed his hands on his knees, pre-emptively glaring at his friends as his girlfriend approached, but they weren’t even paying attention to him. Apparently he was the only one who felt the earth move when he looked at her. Right. Her quiet “Hey” to Sweet Pea got some attention though, as she stopped beside him and fleetingly touched his shoulder. Fangs, that jackass, responded by greeting her much more loudly. Sweet Pea narrowed his eyes at his friend.

“Sit down,” he invited Betty, wanting to reach for her.

“Yeah, we’ve always got room for someone who doesn’t need a chair,” Fangs chipped in.

Betty smiled in confusion. Sweet Pea knew whatever Fangs was about to say didn’t deserve the suspension of his girlfriend’s judgement.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“Means we’re expecting you to sit in Sweet Pea’s lap.”

Toni chucked a crumpled napkin at Fangs’s head.

“Thanks,” Betty said with a laugh, at the same time that Sweet Pea said it with something closer to a grunt.

“Ugh,” said Toni, flicking her eyes between the couple with pretend disgust. “Don’t make me take it back.”

Betty smiled at Toni and Sweet Pea saw her crack, smiling in return. It was so strange to him knowing how Toni had initially disliked (to put the most positive spin on it) Betty when she was Jones’s girlfriend. As always, Sweet Pea was ready to accept that Jones had been the real problem there and, beyond that, just be happy that his girl and one of his best friends were getting along _now_.

“So… can I join you?” Betty asked, glancing around at them all, obviously not having gotten the memo on perpetual Serpent informality. Before he could just drag her into a seat, Jones spoke for the group from a chair off to the far end from where Sweet Pea sat.

“Please,” he said flatly. Sweet Pea studied his face, but the prick looked just as neutral as he did 99% of the time.

Toni started to shuffle over to make room between herself and Sweet Pea, but Betty waved her efforts off, perching on the arm of the couch next to Sweet Pea instead. He wrapped his arm around her to hold her hip and, as the others started back up with whatever they’d been talking about, gave his girl a curious look. She shrugged, but he thought it seemed like more of a ‘ _we should have done this sooner_ ’ shrug than an ‘ _I don’t know why I’m here_ ’ one. As the break period passed, he was aware of Betty getting more comfortable next to him, relaxing and even reaching around his back to tap Toni on the shoulder to mention some assignment in a class they had together. Sweet Pea had always felt strong in his group, but being there with Betty seemed to give him a little something extra. He did actually feel more connected to the school for once, because he was connected to her.

When his thoughts became too sentimental―he was horrified and hoped they hadn’t been playing plainly across his face―Sweet Pea snuck his hand up Betty’s waist (at the edge of the seating configuration, she had no one on her other side) and caressed the side of her breast, making her jump. Biting her lip like she was trying not to laugh, his girl stared down at him and gave him an incredulous raise of her eyebrows. He did it right back. Again, Betty leaned around him to get Toni’s attention about some boring homework thing, but this time she leaned around in _front_ of him rather than behind, giving him an unobstructed look down her shirt when he turned his head. His blood seemed to plunge to his dick like it was riding the elevator in the goddamn Tower of Terror. Betty straightened back up, having finished her short conversation, which Sweet Pea was fucking certain had no real point besides making him aware of the lacy pink bra she was wearing. This time, when their eyes met, it was her who looked smug. He hadn’t known that what he liked was a game until she started playing it too.

* * *

The Serpents broke up sooner than Betty was used to doing with her friends and so, even after following Sweet Pea out into the hallway, she was trying to detain him. It might have just been her, but she felt like they’d started something towards the end there that hadn’t been properly concluded. Predictably, he was acting cool and serious. It was infuriating. Thinking fast, she tossed excuse after excuse at him for why they should prolong their time together or meet again later, watching him fight his smile. Finally, she recalled that he’d mentioned something during one of their non-physical moments while the school was closed that she’d thought would make a good premise for a newspaper article. He’d said it in passing, hinting at more. That could work.

“So, I’ll be in the _Blue and Gold_ office until 3:30 if you want to come by and give me that tip,” she suggested. Maybe a little academic for her boyfriend’s taste, but she wanted to fit more time with him into her day. Their evening at the Whyte Wyrm had resolved her on its importance, since Betty knew she could either let her anxieties crush her or take control of the situation.

About to pull his fingers out of her grasp, Sweet Pea paused, his eyes suddenly, almost indecently, intent on hers.

“Oh, I’ll give you the tip,” he replied.

Betty felt her face heat up, then froze just as quickly as she heard Kevin’s wordless groan of discomfort come from behind her. She turned, putting Sweet Pea at her back, and absorbed the look on Kevin’s face.

“You,” her friend ordered, pointing a finger at Sweet Pea, “work on your subtlety. You,” the finger landed on Betty, “a brief word?”

“I’m going anyway.” Sweet Pea motioned towards his retreating Serpent pack.

“Gee, thanks,” Betty sarcastically responded as he hurried away, leaving her with a still-disapproving-looking Kevin. “What’s up, Kev?”

“Don’t worry,” he told her, “I have nothing more to say about that blatant display of sexual tension. I actually wanted to ask you about something serious.”

Intrigued, Betty let Kevin guide her farther down the hall, away from the student lounge.

“Now, don’t get me wrong,” he began again, “I love a long weekend as much as the next guy, but my dad’s pretty much positive that what happened to the school was vandalism.”

“I mean,” Betty started, trying to keep her eyes wide and honest-looking, “couldn’t it have been a temperature thing? Maybe something happened to the pipes when the weather heated up quickly. You remember how warm it was that day, don’t you? Valentine’s Day?” she prompted.

“The pipes? That’s your answer? This isn’t the _Chamber of Secrets_ , Betty.”

She felt her forehead furrow.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Kev. I’m not a plumber.”

“No,” he acknowledged, lowering his voice, “but what you do know about is a certain group of students recently admitted to our school who have unconcealed gang ties.”

“What?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Dating Sweet Pea doesn’t suddenly make me inner circle.”

“Yeah, I know that well enough from going out with Joaquin, but I also know that sometimes you might hear something…?”

His floating question was leading her and Betty realized that the conversation she was having wouldn’t have been so different from one her friend’s father―the _sheriff_ ―might have when interrogating a suspect or a witness. And yet the vandalism wasn’t really bothering her, not as much as Kevin’s suspicion of her boyfriend. Even if he _was_ right. Looking back into the familiar face she’d know basically forever, Betty felt her loyalties shift. It surprised her by being less painful than the bite of her fingernails into her palms used to be.

“I really don’t think it was him. Or any of the Serpents,” she emphasized when Kevin immediately opened his mouth to continue his accusations. “They actually like it here. Apparently it’s nice to have gym equipment and teachers who aren’t supplying drugs to students.” Betty waved her hand exasperatedly, showing that she could go on and on in her comparisons, and Kevin knew it.

“I don’t want to jump to any conclusions...”

“Then don’t,” she insisted, trying to sound friendly but firm. Kevin shrugged. “I have to go,” Betty said. “I’ll see you in class.” He nodded and she had no idea if he’d believed anything she’d said. It might not have been the first time he’d felt like that, but it was the first time she knew she deserved it.

Betty rounded the corner then took off running, searching for Sweet Pea down every hall until she found him. He was still with the other Serpents, about to push out of the school’s side door, possibly in search of greater privacy for whatever they were discussing, but she didn’t know. He stopped when he saw Betty and strode back to her. They were near the _Blue and Gold_ office now, empty at this time of day, so she pulled him inside and shut the door, improvising.

“This better be quick,” Sweet Pea complained in his version of playfulness, eyes on the closed door.

His attention was recalled when Betty dropped her bag, then dropped to her knees. She couldn’t imagine her boyfriend looking more surprised. It certainly wasn’t something she’d ever seen.

“ _Ok_ ,” he said, evidently reassessing the situation she’d thrown him into, “this is going to be _very_ quick.”

They both reached for the fastening of his pants, Sweet Pea’s hands going to Betty’s hair when her fingers beat his to the button. She gave his pants and boxers a vicious yank, more conscious of the limited time than her own reasoning, and started to stroke him (unskillfully, she worried) while he muffled a groan above her.

“God, Betty,” he mumbled, staring down at her. She liked the way his dark hair fell forward.

“Shocked?” Her voice was bright and hyper as she felt him hardening under her fingers. She just couldn’t _look_.

“On one hand―” Betty gave him a teasing squeeze and heard his breath catch, “―I knew this would happen sooner or later, but on the other…. Yes. Shocked as hell.”

Satisfied, Betty adjusted her position kneeling on the cement floor (not great, but the spontaneity of her plan and Sweet Pea’s reaction had already made up for it), and touched her mouth softly to the head of his erection. She didn’t really know what she was doing, but the way Sweet Pea’s fingers clenched in her hair provided a far-from-negligible amount of instruction. Betty ran her tongue over him, keeping up a constant stroke with her hand on the part of his length south of her mouth. In case his eyes might tell her something his gentle hair-tugging wasn’t, Betty glanced up at Sweet Pea’s face. His hands fell from her hair as he, panting, pointed at one of his wrists and tapped a nonexistent watch. She could almost admire the amount of nerve she felt it must take to let him tell her to hurry up. The only option was to raise one eyebrow and part her lips over his cock. He wanted this fast? Fine, she could figure out how to do this fast.

She held his bare hip with her free hand, carefully opening her mouth to him. It wasn’t the most natural feeling and Betty’s mind was on what she was supposed to do with her tongue. Her teeth? On the way down, she concentrated harder on being careful than being good, but on the way back up, wanting to head off another comment―verbal or otherwise―telling her to pick up the pace, Betty shaped her tongue to him and sucked. Sweet Pea cursed explosively, fingers tunneling back into her hair, and she knew she was in business; rendering him evidently unable to be silent was a great victory, though Betty didn’t know over what. Establishing something almost like rhythm, she guided her mouth up and down some of his stiffened length and jerked her loosely circled fingers over the rest.

Once she could suck, and breathe, and stop paying attention to the floor under her knees, Betty began to enjoy it. The psychology of doing something like this―giving her boyfriend a blowjob in the _Blue and Gold_ office!―was making more and more sense to her. She found she liked what Sweet Pea liked, and not just the mental aspect, but the physical. The more he struggled to keep from groaning, the wetter she could feel herself getting. When he grabbed the hand she had wrapped around his hip and urged her up, Betty half-expected him to push her skirt up and take her against the wall. She was wrong; as soon as her mouth and hand were removed from his erection, Sweet Pea’s own hand replaced them. Realizing he’d stopped her because he was near climax, Betty pulled her lower lip into her mouth and staggered to the office desk, plucking tissues from the dispenser like they were flower petals. _He wants me, he wants me not_. Then she wasn’t sure if she should be giving him privacy, but couldn’t prevent herself from turning around, burning with curiosity, when he gruffly spoke her name. Their eyes met and he dipped his chin, silently commanding her to look lower. So she watched him, face hot. Sweet Pea beckoned for the tissues she’d forgotten were clamped in her fist and she handed them over. He came, clearly unashamedly, and Betty shared his every gusty exhale as her boyfriend panted through his recovery.

“Shocked?” he mocked her, bringing her eyes back up to his face. Betty made a meaningless gesture, waiting for words that wouldn’t come. Sweet Pea fixed his clothes and tossed the clump of tissues in the trashcan. How was she supposed to summarize this?

“This time, I do have to go,” he said with a smirk, hand on the doorknob. Betty’s eyes went to the clock. They’d have to be back in class soon, and he still needed to meet with the Serpents before that.

“I wish I could go with you,” she said, knowing it was futile. Whatever the Serpents had to discuss was none of her business. With Kevin trying to get information out of her, she recognized that it was much better that she didn’t know more than she was supposed to. For now, it just might be sufficient to curb the inquisitive journalist side of her.

“Trust me, I wish you could go too.” Sweet Pea gave her a suggestive look. Betty laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Just for the pleasure of my company, right?” she teased.

“Depends how we’re defining the pleasure of your company.” Sweet Pea took her face in his hands and kissed her slowly, probably trying to make sure she knew he was joking without having to actually vocalize his wish to reassure her. Oh, she had his number.

Betty did let him leave the office, then, with a lingering smile, pressed her face against the cool wall to take the flush out of her skin. Possibly, she should have been feeling regret, confusion, embarrassment… but her emotions were pulling her in a completely different direction. She stood there, kicking her feet to get the soreness out of her knees, and realized that, even if things weren’t yet perfect between herself and Sweet Pea’s friends or between him and _her_ friends, being with him was the right decision. _That_ could be enough for her. _That_ could mean something.


	15. Milestones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I've previously only updated this story on Fanfiction.net, I'll let you know that I typically add chapters to it on Tuesdays and/or Fridays and/or Sundays. Thanks so much for reading!!

XV

“Do any of those fries not have vinegar on them?” Betty asked, her hand already hovering over Sweet Pea’s plate like the claw in an arcade game. She was a strictly ketchup girl herself, though today she’d only used that condiment for the liberal dunking of her grilled cheese sandwich. Why should both of them order fries? Everyone knew that was a sharing food.

“No,” Sweet Pea lowered his chin and gave her a scolding sort of look, “because they’re _my_ fries.”

“So?”

“So I like vinegar. Tough luck, Cooper.”

He made a show of grabbing the vinegar bottle and forcefully shaking more over his dwindling pile of fries, then picked up two and ate them at the same time, keeping his gaze trained on hers. Betty rolled her eyes. That much vinegar was just an insult to the quality of Pop’s cooking. Or, frying. Whatever.

“You’re getting very territorial,” her boyfriend suddenly commented. He flung his back against the booth, sending her the hint of a smirk.

“‘Territorial’ seems like strong language for wanting one French fry.”

“You only wanted one?”

Betty glanced guiltily off to the side.

“Like when you sat on my lap at the Wyrm.”

She realized he was back to the ‘territorial’ thing. Was she being like that? That night at the Whyte Wyrm had been about showing she was unafraid. That she was proud of their relationship. That she wanted to be with Sweet Pea, _like_ Sweet Pea. Ok, maybe that was within the realm of ‘territorial.’

“That’s the main thing you remember from that outing?”

“You sitting your ass in my lap―in public―” he emphasized, tapping his index finger on their table, “―less than half an hour after…” He raised his eyebrows. Well, at least he had discretion. Still, Betty glanced nervously around; their end of the diner was only sparsely populated.

“Ok, I concede. I see your point.” She held up her hands in defeat and Sweet Pea returned to eating his fries at a leisurely pace.

He wasn’t naturally chatty, and that was ok, nice even. After looking out the window for a few minutes and watching lazy weekend traffic creep by, Betty brought her gaze back to Sweet Pea. He was different today. Not just because he’d willingly met her in a clearly defined Northsider hangout, or because he was wearing his Serpents jacket, which most of the time she never saw him in, since gang-affiliated clothing was still banned at school. No, the biggest departure from regular Sweet Pea (it felt like an insult to call him that, even in her head) was the fact that he’d commented on her behaviour. Specifically, on her behaviour in relation to himself. He liked her a lot, she was sure of that by now, but he mostly told her that with his eyes. ‘Territorial’ was a loaded word, with strong positive _and_ negative connotations. At this point, she was ready to assume he’d meant it as a good thing, seeing as he was an honest guy and still sitting there across from her, having lunch in her favourite place. Maybe ‘territorial’ was progress? People had milestones in their relationships, right? It wouldn’t be ridiculous to think that this might be one for her.

The thing was, as important as Betty suspected she was to Sweet Pea, she also knew there was something else vying for his affection―or at least his attention. If he felt he could open up to her bit by bit about the Serpents… well, it would mean surmounting an obstacle that had knocked her flat time and again when she was dating Jughead. Sweet Pea might be in the mood to talk about some of those things, if he had the inclination to mention something to do with their relationship dynamic. This lunch could be the start of a domino effect.

“You know,” Betty began, clasping her hands loosely on the table, “you’re really good at keeping quiet.”

Sweet Pea’s eyebrows drew together as he looked up from his empty plate.

“In general, or are you thinking of a specific situation?” He winked at her.

She could feel that she was blushing hard.

“I mean―”

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean and I think you should stop.” His face was still amused, but from one second to the next, she watched his eyes grow serious.

“Stop what?”

“What you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” Betty’s arms rearranged themselves to be folded. She also crossed her ankles. She thought about what an asset it would have been to be able to not appear so defensive. Oh well.

“Trying to find out what the Serpents are up to by flattering me.”

“I am not!” She totally was, but she didn’t want the flattery dragged into it. That should be allowed to stand on its own, apart from the… prying.

“Come on,” Sweet Pea grinned, “you’re not curious? Aren’t you kind of the best reporter _and_ the best detective in Riverdale?”

Seeing him smile relaxed her. Evidently, they were both playing with each other. Two cats getting themselves tangled up on opposite ends of the same length of yarn.

“You’re teasing me,” she accused, watching Sweet Pea bite down in the middle of his lip even as he kept on grinning.

“No, I’m flattering you.”

“Well, by your logic, that means I should assume you have an agenda.” She sat back, arms crossed, and he leaned forward, elbows on the table. The way the leather moved with his shoulders was briefly distracting.

“I do,” he acknowledged. “Wanna know what it is?”

Betty’s head cocked impatiently to the side as she fought a smile.

“I’m all ears.”

“It’s to let you know that _I_ know you’re curious, but to tell you not to ask me about Serpent business.”

Uh oh. Suddenly, she worried whether she’d wildly overstepped. Was he actually annoyed at her? It was so hard to tell. Betty figured the best thing to do would be to back down now and formulate a new plan at another time. Or something that wasn’t a plan at all. She realized that at some point in the conversation, she’d become competitive with herself; her greatest weakness, that she was able to recognize, was an inability to stop herself from digging for information. If she couldn’t have it, she only wanted it more.

“Because of all those laws you guys have,” Betty stated, accepting she’d hit a wall.

“No.” His eyes narrowed and he beckoned her forward with two fingers. Betty shifted in her seat, leaning to put her face near his. Her heart, either not knowing or not caring that this was maybe a critical situation, banged around excitedly in her chest, crossing its nonexistent heart-fingers that Betty would stretch a little farther and kiss him. With her close, Sweet Pea said softly, “Because I probably _would_ tell you, and then I’d be in deep shit.”

She shook her head slowly, breaking into a grin.

“I like you Sweet Pea.”

“I know,” he assured her, sinking back. Betty retreated as well, but kept her hands on the table.

“I won’t ask you to tell me anything.”

“Nothing?”

“No…” she lowered her voice, “…Serpent business. But I do have my concerns.”

“About what we do, or what I do in particular?”

She waved him off with both hands.

“Neither. I trust you and I trust you to take care of yourself.” He couldn’t look so serious and imposing for nothing, right? “I’m worried that I won’t _really_ be a part of your life,” she clarified quietly. It was hard not to lower her eyes, but Betty always tried not to look defeated, _especially_ when she didn’t see a clear escape route.

Sweet Pea huffed a breath out his nose, one side of his mouth curving up.

“You can be a part of my life.”

“Only some of it,” she countered, a little confrontationally. Crap, she hadn’t meant to start in on such a make-or-break conversation. He was going to think she wanted to break up!

“You’ve barely seen any of the South side. You can come home with me right now.”

Betty straightened up abruptly. As far as she was concerned, this kind of invitation had been utterly unforeseeable. Yes, she was interested, but he was so private. Being inside his house would be a big deal. Much bigger than being called ‘territorial.’ Apparently that wasn’t the relationship milestone they were hitting today.

“To get introduced to your family?” She’d never asked, only because her impression of any one of the Serpents was that they treated all other Serpents like family. It was shameful that she hadn’t thought a little more conventionally. Which was definitely a first.

“To get _re_ introduced to something even more personal.” He glanced pointedly down towards his lap, then smiled back up at her.

Her eyes widened like she was trying to see in the dark. To be fair, Sweet Pea was dressed all in black. What he’d so bluntly implied―and louder than she would’ve announced it in such a public place―wasn’t really a solution. Obviously, if _that_ was what he had in mind, he wasn’t expecting his family to be home, though being inside his most private space would still be significant. Betty puzzled for a moment before deciding she didn’t always need to solve everything.

She rose from their booth and Sweet Pea copied her. Stroking a strand of her hair between her fingers, Betty looked him up and down. It was amazing that he could appear so much like he had the night they’d met―except his hair was a little longer―when he was here, standing in daylight at Pop’s. She stepped up to him, plucked the front of his jacket away from his body, and said, “Would it have turned you on if I’d ordered a hot dog?”

Sweet Pea’s fingers kneaded her back, just around the curve of her waist.

“A hot dog? How ‘bout an ice cream cone? Something that involves a little more licking and a little less―” he frowned, “―biting.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Betty offered, giving him a smirk.

As she walked out beside him, Sweet Pea’s hand slid diagonally down her back, aiming―she thought―for her opposite hip. Instead, his fingers slipped into the back pocket of her jeans and gave her butt a squeeze. There was no one milling around in the parking lot, but maybe Betty wouldn’t have minded if there had been.

“You’re still thinking about the hot dog thing, aren’t you?” she asked, looking accusingly up at Sweet Pea.

“Ice cream thing,” he corrected with a slight wince.

“You’re still thinking about the _ice cream_ thing, aren’t you?”

They took a few steps in silence, Betty wrapping her arm around her boyfriend’s waist.

“You brought it up,” Sweet Pea reminded her.

“I certainly did.” She eyed him slyly, then waited as the confusion crumpling his forehead spread away and he glanced down at her.

“Was there a double meaning there?”

Betty shrugged.

“I’m good with words. They don’t call me the best reporter in Riverdale for nothing.”

* * *

Her skin was hot under his hands like she’d been lying in the sun. Sweet Pea had Betty sitting between his legs on the bed―his chest to her back, his mouth to her neck, her jeans on the floor where he’d peeled them off and tossed them. Her underwear were someplace over the side of the bed too, which was why his girl was breathing extra unevenly while he massaged the hollow at the very top of her inner thigh. He grinned against Betty’s throat as he put her out of her misery, bringing his fingers to her thickly flowing center, pressing to feel the shape of her before dragging his fingers upward. She cried out and her head fell back against his shoulder. With his free hand, Sweet Pea swept her hair away from her face, stirring up the floral smell of it the more he flipped and smoothed it under his palm.

“I can’t take this,” Betty sighed, turning her face towards his.

Since he had her looking at him, Sweet Pea pressed down on her clit and scrubbed it up and down, just so he could see her mouth drop open in pleasure.

“Sure you can,” he replied, quickly kissing her cheek, then devoting all of his attention to stroking between her legs.

Sweet Pea ran his fingers through her arousal, spreading it over and around her clit to make Betty shake in his arms. Curling one finger, he pushed inside her; she panted and flung her arms up to hold the back of his neck. He wiggled his finger deeper and Betty arched her back like she was stretching. It wasn’t exactly helpful, but it did nudge her ass harder against his crotch, cutting off his air for a second like the time Tall Boy had put him in a chokehold for taking a drink of his beer. Sweet Pea had been 12, maybe 13, and thought life was pretty fucking good. The kid he’d been wouldn’t have believed what was happening now even if he’d told him. There was no way anybody on the South side was having as good of an afternoon as he was. Hell, probably nobody in Riverdale. Right now, Betty belonged to him and no one else, and Sweet Pea silently repeated that to himself as he settled his thumb on her clit, rubbing her inside and out.

“Told you,” he muttered in her ear when she came, scratching her nails across the back of his neck.

Against Betty’s lower back, his cock throbbed. The only thing preventing Sweet Pea’s discomfort from being totally unbearable was the fact that he’d unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans―or rather, Betty’d done it for him before he’d decided he wanted to give her a thorough feeling-up instead of cutting right to the sex. As Betty slumped back into him, Sweet Pea rocked his erection against her and turned her face so he could kiss her. He didn’t really know yet what his girl was like post-orgasm, having limited previous experience of getting her off to work from. One big difference between this time and the last time was that _this_ time was not her _first_ time. Sweet Pea had fingered her enough that he figured it shouldn’t be too bad for her. Maybe she’d even want him right away.

Gently, he urged Betty to lean her upper body a little bit forward, then grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it off. With a small smile, she was utterly willing, completely pliant in his arms to the point that a tiny part of his chest hurt like he was pricking it with a needle because she was so unafraid and trusting. Sweet Pea was used to people trusting him―the Serpents were a group dependent on trust, though certain members had betrayed it and nearly fucked everything up in the past―just not like this. Betty’s trust was the kind you couldn’t find or buy on the South side. It was sweet, like a kid’s trust, but knowing, like the trust established between two friends over a lifetime. If he’d encountered a trust like Betty’s in a book, he would’ve had to read that page again.

Betty unclipped her own bra and dropped it over the side of the bed. Fully naked, she turned around on her knees to face him, right away pushing her fingers into his hair and kissing his lips, then his face. He smirked against her mouth.

“How long do we have?” she asked while unbuttoning his shirt.

“No idea.” Sweet Pea was paying a hell of a lot more attention to her body than her words. What did she expect? She was naked and climbing all over him!

“But aren’t you worried about someone…?” Betty’s lips left the underside of his jaw as she raised her head to shoot him a look of wily comprehension. “No, of course you aren’t.”

Sweet Pea laughed and shrugged to get his shirt off his shoulders. When it was someplace around his elbows, Betty stopped helping. With his arms wedged between his back and the wall at the head of his bed, Sweet Pea wasn’t impressed.

“A little help here?”

Suddenly Betty was smiling brilliantly and straddling his lap. Sweet Pea took a big breath in through his nose just to see if he could make his torso swell to reach her bare boobs. He could. Excellent.

“Maybe I like you trapped,” she teased.

“Oh yeah?”

His eyes darted over her face. Then her chest. Then lower. It was a cute game she was trying to play, but he didn’t have time for it. With a bit of a struggle, Sweet Pea got his arms free of his shirt and whipped it away. Betty sighed like he’d ruined her day, frowning until he grabbed her and flipped her onto her back. He started kissing her deeply and Betty’s disappointment was evidently forgotten as he felt her arms wind around his back and pull him closer. Once he complied, her palms slid down his chest and over his abs, making him breathe hard, aware of little beyond the sensitive area her perfect fingers were approaching.

Betty stopped just short of the band of his boxers, making Sweet Pea groan; he felt a lot more frustrated than a groan’s worth, it was just that keeping most of his reactions to himself was still his default. He dropped his hips and ground his erection against Betty’s abdomen. Sure, most of the stimulating she’d done to him had been vocal when she’d moaned her way through third base, but he was ready to go. Was she turning shy on him? Was that the reason for putting on the breaks and pulling his body down to hers? Was she trying to hide?

While he was still working through the possibly impossible process of figuring her out, Betty pushed against his shoulders. Not hard like she was freaking out, just enough to get his attention away from what he was doing with his hips―which wasn’t easy. Sweet Pea braced his weight on one arm with no trouble and lifted the other to uncage his strange bird of a Northsider. Betty shuffled to the side until she was next to him rather than beneath him, leaving Sweet Pea high and dry. He gave her a look, flopping onto his side. Apparently that wasn’t good enough because her hand went to his hip, giving him a shove that he allowed to knock him onto his back. Betty leaned over him, probably (and smartly) not trusting him to stay in place, but he halted her before she could try to get back onto his lap.

“Uh uh,” Sweet Pea checked her, “you were on top last time.”

“Is that how you remember it?” Betty smirked at him and lowered her head for a kiss that he denied her. Her lips went to his cheek instead.

“Yep. I remember it _vividly_.”

“Good,” she replied, licking his neck. For fuck’s sake. The feel of her tongue had him aching at the memory of her mouth around his cock. It hadn’t been that long since the _Blue and Gold_ office. He wanted to drag her back under him, but when he reached around to hold her, Sweet Pea found himself doing nothing more than caressing up and down her back, edging his fingers along her shoulder blades.

“That wasn’t me giving you permission,” he clarified, in denial that his words held any more conviction than his aborted movement to lay her back on the mattress. Obviously it wasn’t convincing to Betty either, because she kissed down his throat and across his chest.

“I’m aware,” she mumbled against his skin as Sweet Pea started to hold her closer. Any angle where he could look down his body and see Betty’s mouth working against him was a good one in his books.

“Well, how am I supposed to know you’re listening?” He knew he should put himself back in control, but he couldn’t stop watching her. He’d been watching her for so long.

Betty’s hand suddenly slipped between the parted front of his undone jeans and gripped his dick over his boxers. “I’m listening.”

“ _Shit_ ,” he gasped out. Ok, maybe he _could_ tolerate this a little longer.

Sweet Pea lifted his hips as his girl exposed him, undressing him completely. Then, she leaned over him again, laying propped up with her knees together and off to the side; he wedged his hand between her thighs to disrupt this unacceptably modest posture. As her fingers trailed over his abdomen, Sweet Pea clenched his muscles, partly because his body was so on edge now that his teeth were chattering, and partly―he had to be honest with himself―to impress her. She raised her mouth from his skin just a little and Sweet Pea could feel her breath and the way it was covering him in goosebumps. Everything in him was straining for her.

Abruptly, Betty reversed course, kissing back up to his chest. At that point, Sweet Pea did grab her and push her onto her back, rolling over her.

“God, you’re mean,” he blurted, gaze darting between her eyes and her smirk. His own expression was set to deadly serious after the way she’d just denied him. “Your friends don’t know you at all, do they?”

“Not like you do,” Betty agreed, laying her hand over his where he gripped her shoulder.

He was disarmed, but instead of admitting it, Sweet Pea lowered his face and kissed her. A second later, he lowered his hips and Betty’s knees came up on either side, so he grabbed the underside of her thigh as he rubbed himself against her hot center. She moaned and rocked back against him.

“I can’t take this,” she said for the second time, pleading with those big green eyes of hers.

Was it manipulation if what she was asking for was exactly what he wanted to give her? Sweet Pea wasn’t sure. What he _was_ sure about was that he had condoms in his crappy bedside table, so he reached out and felt around for one while he flattened his body to Betty’s and kissed her. She wanted to be the one to roll the condom on, but as soon as she snuck her hand down between their bodies, Sweet Pea knew it’d be too much for him.

“You’re going to make me lose my mind if you do that,” he warned, getting himself ready on his own.

“I wouldn’t want to do that,” Betty joked (he thought her giddiness was probably nerves, judging by the way her eyes were jumping around his face). “That’s my favourite thing about you.”

Sweet Pea cocked his head arrogantly.

“Not for long.”

When he pressed into her (nice and slow and careful; he wasn’t an asshole), Betty was tight as fuck. As much as Sweet Pea told himself he was taking his time for her, it was for him too. His mind wasn’t the only thing he felt on the verge of losing and it was way too early into their relationship for that shit. It was nice to finally have a little freedom of movement instead of feeling like a 2-D arcade game character. He wasn’t sitting on the hood of a car, or folded into the backseat, or standing still while Betty got down on her knees. The more Sweet Pea thought about it―plunging steadily away inside her while she clutched at his back and tugged his hair―he’d physically had less control than she had in almost every one of their encounters so far. How the hell had that happened? It was bullshit, he told himself, unconsciously biting his lip as he changed his angle. Sweet Pea was going to show her why she’d like him in charge.

Her being so slick around him made it impossible to resist bucking sharply into her, knowing how smooth and perfect it would feel. Betty moaned and even let out a panted laugh when the bed bumped the wall. Sweet Pea didn’t worry about that; his room wasn’t a fucking museum exhibit and another scrape or dent in any surface wouldn’t make a hell of a lot of difference. Plus, making a mark because of what he was doing with her would, in his opinion, add value to the room. Maybe he’d stick his hand down between the bed and the wall later and try to find the new gouge. Rocking into her the way he was, Betty was clearly becoming short of breath, her hands getting desperate to hold onto him, like the time he’d tried to climb the outside wall of a grocery store in the middle of the night, just for kicks. Nails jabbed his skin on either side of his spine and Sweet Pea realized he would once again be the one getting kicks (or at least deserving them) if he didn’t make this really good for his girl. She wasn’t the violent type, but sex clearly brought something else out in her that most people couldn’t spot from the outside. Luckily, the first time _he’d_ seen her from the outside, she’d been pole dancing in a bar.

Kissing her would have been a really shitty idea, unless he wanted one or both of them to have a broken nose as their souvenir, so while he thrusted, Sweet Pea groped Betty’s boob, tugging at her nipple with his fingers. Her back arched, forcing her chest against his hand and her hips down around his dick. To keep his cool, Sweet Pea let out a puff of air, then jerked his hips more shallowly; Betty’s movement had sent him deep and one more move like that would mean game over. Right away, she got restless beneath him, her hips squirming for something more. Sweet Pea’s fist closed around the pillow under her head and he kept pulsing into her while he slid his hand from her boob south to find her clit. Betty stopped with her tossing and turning and ground against both his hand and his cock. What really fucked him up―in the best way possible―was hearing her start to mutter his name. She was so goddamn slippery from sweat and arousal that Sweet Pea didn’t trust his odds with just one finger, so he kept all four of them tight together and rubbed blindly at her, drawing her mutterings out into shapeless moans. He couldn’t fucking take it and buried his sweaty forehead in the crook of her neck as he came.

When Betty shouted next to his ear as he was still gliding in and out of her, it was the first time he’d ever been happy that somebody’d done that. On the other side of orgasm from his girl, Sweet Pea raised his head like he was trying to pick up a motorcycle with his neck and watched her move through her own release. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her face glowing pink. Her grip on him that felt so possessive and demanding that it made him want to commit himself to her in all kinds of stupid ways. He just kept circling her clit under his fingertips until she opened her eyes. Betty looked at him and in a second or two Sweet Pea was half-convinced that he’d just had his first time. It was genuinely like a fucking Madonna song and he was too absorbed in just… _staring_ at her to be pissed off.

He only moved away from her because he had to, tossing the condom and stepping into the bathroom to slap himself in the face a couple times. Entering his bedroom again, he saw Betty reaching for his shirt from the floor, her pale body stretched out on his bed. His blood started abandoning his brain.

“No,” he told her, walking over to where she was laid out. Her eyes met his and she looked startled and then defiant.

“Why not?” She kept the shirt dangling in her hand, but didn’t lift it from the ground.

“Better idea,” Sweet Pea explained without explaining a damn thing, already finding where he’d flung his jacket. He knew Betty’s eyes would still be on him and he limited himself to giving her only two pointed stares to let her know _he_ knew she was checking him out.

When he grabbed his Serpents jacket and tossed it to her (gently and underhand, since it would be a bad fucking end to the date if she got whapped across the face with a zipper), Betty raised her eyebrows in that way she had, but didn’t object to putting it on. She sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, getting her arms in and crossing her legs in her lap as she started to zip it up. Again, he stopped her and his girl sighed in dramatic resignation, resting her weight back on her hands. The jacket fell open about as wide as one of his hands and Sweet Pea felt himself grinning and nodding appreciatively. Was it the leather? Was it seeing her marked with the Serpent logo? Was it seeing her in something of his, period? Who the hell knew? Sweet Pea just wanted to stand there and drink her in.

“Enjoying yourself?” Betty asked sarcastically.

“Not yet, but you could go ahead and uncross your legs.” He made a spreading gesture with both hands and she rolled her eyes, incapable of not blushing. “It definitely does something for you,” he added.

“And you,” she shot back, her eyes dropping down his body. Sweet Pea laughed.

“I’m serious. Something about that blonde hair and badass crime fighting thing you have going on. It’s a match made in heaven.”

Betty got off the bed and positioned herself in front of the small mirror he had sitting on his table.

“Maybe you’re right,” she acknowledged as he stepped up behind her.

“I usually am,” he replied, locking eyes with her reflection and kissing her neck before easing the jacket down her shoulders.


	16. Two Chats and a Crazy Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone getting on board with this story now that I've posted it to AO3 as well as FF.net! I appreciate you making a little room for this couple in your lives. (I almost wrote "and in your hearts," but woah, cheesy.)

XVI

“So what were _you_ up to this weekend?”

Startled, Betty lost her grip on the textbook she had been in the process of retrieving from the top of her locker and it made a metallic clang as it hit the shelf. Veronica, unfazed, slunk in closer to chat.

“Hey,” Betty said with a sigh as her heart gradually stopped racing. This time she pulled the book from the shelf without issue, tucking it under her arm before turning to her friend. “I never see you around my locker anymore.”

“Well, your bodyguard wasn’t at his post today.”

Betty rolled her eyes.

“I think you’re exaggerating.”

“He’s big, he’s intimidating, he tends to scowl…” Veronica was ticking these observed characteristics off on her fingers and Betty grabbed her hand to stop her.

“He’s a private person, that’s all.”

“Hmm.” Veronica narrowed her eyes. “I don’t trust that. _Anyway_ ,” she went on, before Betty could reply, “you haven’t answered my question yet.”

“Which was?” Betty scanned the contents of her locker, making sure there wasn’t anything else she needed to grab.

“What’d you do this weekend?”

Betty smiled automatically, barely able to keep her grin at a level that could still be called ‘sane.’

“I had lunch with Sweet Pea.”

Veronica was making _duh, tell me more_ eyes at her, so Betty continued.

“And then we hung out on the South side for a while.”

“You did?”

“You sound incredulous, V,” Betty joked, closing her locker as gingerly as she could. She hated the way it banged and was hoping for a newer one next year.

“Oh, I believe you, I just don’t really understand the appeal.”

Betty felt her head tilt.

“He… lives there?” Her confusion lifted the statement into a question.

“He can live there without wanting to spend all his time there.” Veronica shrugged lightly. “I guess going to school on the North side isn’t having much of an effect on him.”

Betty laughed awkwardly and leaned her shoulder into her locker door, beginning to feel offended on her boyfriend’s behalf. There was no way Veronica was intentionally being elitist.

“I mean, he is who he is. We’re not asking any of the Serpents for conformity in exchange for an education here.”

Just then, Fangs and another South Side High boy walked by, both in matching Riverdale High polo shirts and khakis. Betty’s forehead creased, but Veronica started talking again before Betty could give it much thought.

“Of _course_ not, B,” Veronica assured her, grabbing Betty’s arm for a second like the idea was so ridiculous that she was about to either pass out or be thrown off balance by extreme laughter. Betty felt herself starting to smile again. _Great,_ she thought, _everything’s back on track_. “I’m surprised they wouldn’t be a little more thoughtful about their behaviour outside of school hours though. There are certain expectations for students here that might be… _different_ from the expectations at their old school.” She casually shook her head to get a rogue imaginary strand of her perfectly smooth, dark hair away from her face.

“V, stop,” Betty demanded, pushing away from her locker. She kept her voice down with all of the students swarming around them between classes. “You don’t sound like yourself. What are you talking about?”

“Well,” Veronica began, acting annoyed as if Betty asking her to explain herself were a real imposition, “my parents had a meeting with Sheriff Keller the other day―just wanted his advice on a local legal oddity,” she explained with a wave of her hand before Betty could inquire, “―and I heard some things through the grapevine.”

“What things?” Betty’s hands were closing into fists without her permission. She adjusted her arm so she wouldn’t drop her textbook.

“That there might be some further investigating done into the school flooding.”

“Meaning?”

“Don’t be naïve, Betty.” Veronica gave her a hard stare. “This has ‘Southside Serpents’ written all over it.”

Betty huffed indignantly, glancing off to the side to spare her friend from the look of irritation she was sure was on her face.

“That’s what Kevin said too,” she remarked, trying to keep her voice even. A veiled accusation by one friend had taken her aback. Two friends felt like betrayal. Betty glanced at the ceiling, but her anger refused to fall away. “What do you guys have against them?”

“Nothing,” Veronica assured her, making Betty meet her eye, “I just don’t want to see you get dragged into something. It’s _you_ I care about.” She suddenly held Betty’s hand, but Betty carefully pulled it out of her grasp.

“So you’re warning me?”

“Advising you, let’s say.” Nothing in Veronica’s face said that she didn’t think she wasn’t doing precisely the right thing. Betty was nowhere near as easily convinced.

“To do what, exactly? Stay out of schemes to flood schools? Turn in my boyfriend, my ex, other people I’m really starting to like for what seems to have been a harmless prank that I have no reason to think they had anything to do with?” Betty was suddenly out of breath and realized she’d begun to rant. She didn’t have a lot of practice defending herself, at least not to her friends.

“I’m not suggesting you do anything, B, just don’t needlessly put yourself in trouble’s path. You know things have been a little rocky between the police and the Serpents lately.”

“Uh huh,” Betty agreed vaguely, the entire conversation feeling surreal to her. She frowned.

“So, maybe consider putting a little distance between yourself and the South side.” Veronica raised and flipped over her hand as she made the suggestion, exposing her palm as though to offer Betty a literal hand as well as a metaphorical one.

“When you say ‘the South side’…”

“The trailer park, the Whyte Wyrm…”

“Sweet Pea,” Betty ground out, lips pinching together.

Veronica shrugged.

“It wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

“He’s my _boyfriend_ , V.”

“Betty, wake up.” She said it kindly and Betty wondered if all the patience her friend had displayed over the past few minutes was just to keep her from making a scene. “They’re criminals. They’re _dangerous_.”

This was all wrong. Betty thought there must be some way to save this. She had to believe it.

“Not Sweet Pea. If you just got to know some of them better―”

“They’re a gang!”

“They’re a _family_! When they were transferred here, you welcomed them.”

“When they were transferred here, you weren’t _dating_ one of them.”

“‘One of them?’” Betty repeated.

“They break laws,” Veronica stated. “Flooding the school wouldn’t be the first.”

“Maybe it’s not the smartest idea to have Toni bartending before she’s over the legal drinking age―”

“F.P. Jones disposed of Jason Blossom’s body!” Veronica hissed. “He was in prison!”

“So was your father!” Betty snapped, louder than she’d meant to. A few people glanced around and looked at her in surprise. She knew what they were thinking. _Was that Betty Cooper raising her voice to someone?_ It was maybe a second later that she turned her eyes back to Veronica. The dark-haired girl’s face was expressionless. “V, I didn’t mean―”

Veronica raised a hand to halt her.

“I know. And _I_ didn’t mean to push you. I didn’t realize I was,” she said stiffly. Betty knew she’d upset her, but she couldn’t fold because of it. Veronica wasn’t in the right here.

“Please, V, please, please, _please_ ,” Betty implored, remembering the way Veronica had collaborated with her to engineer early encounters with Sweet Pea, “don’t tell me helping me plan my relationship was just something you did when you were bored.”

“I didn’t think things were this serious.” Veronica, typically the picture of self-assurance, looked wrong-footed and confused. “I thought it was a crush. A rebound after Jughead.”

Betty was shaking her head, oscillating with every motion between disappointment and rage.

“I’m falling in love with him,” she said. When she heard herself say it, she knew it was true, even though she’d never quite pieced it together before.

“He’s not like us.”

“Maybe he’s not like you, but he’s _exactly_ like me.”

Betty turned and headed for class, intentionally taking the long way so that she and Veronica wouldn’t be headed in the same direction.

* * *

It was warm enough to enjoy being outside as long as you stayed in direct sunlight and found a spot out of the wind. Not spring yet, but getting there. Sweet Pea was lying on his back on the bench of one of the metal picnic tables on school grounds. Toni sat on the table portion, one leg dangling off the end and the other folded beneath her. Twisting his arm around to prop his head up with it, Sweet Pea studied the Serpents logo covering Toni’s back. Anything with that symbol on it was treated as being as dangerous as a switchblade and as full of unhealthy temptation as Jingle Jangle, not that Toni apparently gave a fuck. She carried the jacket to school inside out and kept it stuffed in her locker. Sweet Pea’d known about it from the start, he just wasn’t one to blab. He knew his friend was wearing it now because she was pissed, or had been. They’d had their last class together, World History, and had their papers on the Spanish Civil War returned. Toni hadn’t exactly been impressed with the grading. Normally, this kind of shit didn’t bother her… because it didn’t happen to her. She either did well the first time around or magically convinced the teacher to let her have a redo. It would’ve bugged the hell out of Sweet Pea if she wasn’t one of his best friends. Today, Toni’d just blown out of there, stopping off at her locker to jam her books inside and grab her jacket. Loyal to her as he was, Sweet Pea had ditched too. The fact that they hadn’t made it past the boundary of the school grounds showed she had a lot more control than he did. He was a little glad though. It was sunny and this school actually had decent places to sit. The yard was like fucking Disneyland compared to Southside High.

“It’s just because we’re getting heat about the flooding,” Toni said out of nowhere.

“Huh?” Sweet Pea shifted his arm under his head so he could see her better when she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“That’s why I lost my cool. Other things bothering me.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Plus, who gives a crap about the Spanish Civil War?”

“I do.”

Sweet Pea snorted out a laugh. Toni swiveled around and kicked his feet off the bench where he was stretched out. He narrowed his eyes at her in annoyance and put his feet right back where they’d been.

“It’s interesting, asshole. Haven’t you ever read _For Whom the Bell Tolls_?”

“This isn’t Jones you’re talking to, remember?” He rolled his eyes, but he didn’t really mind. Toni wasn’t trying to be patronizing, he knew. Really, it was a good thing that she had somebody to talk to about all her intellectual shit. Before Jones, Toni’d been taunted by the others (and, ok, sometimes by him) for being the ‘nerd’ of the group for all her reading and distinctly un-Serpent book smarts. Now, she was quiet for a few minutes, elbows on her knees and feet perched on the edge of the bench by his ankles. “Betty could probably talk to Mr. Whatshisname for you,” he offered, fully aware of their teacher’s name and choosing not to use it. He hoped this sign of disrespect cheered Toni up a little. “Get you back on his good side. Or she could look over your paper.”

“Is she good at World History?” Toni asked. She also knew Sweet Pea too well to be offended, which was key because it wasn’t often that he was able to offer advice. (Unless the topic was gaming, ass kicking, or ways to shake off Jones. The last one was unsolicited.)

He shrugged, feeling under his shoulders the cold metal that had been hot when they’d gotten out here. Probably should’ve stopped to grab his jacket too.

“She’s good at everything.”

Toni gave him a nosy smile that shut Sweet Pea right up. It was too late though. His stupid fucking mouth. Trying to keep a lid on his emotions always did this to him and then private shit just came out whenever it felt like it. If anyone had deserved to hear that compliment, it was Betty herself, but it wasn’t easy to talk to her about how he felt, unless how he felt was horny.

“Should I ask?” Toni teased. She was cheering up alright, it just wasn’t going to be in his favour. Sweet Pea sighed in frustration. Asking even that much _was_ asking, given how she’d said it. “You’re not, like, in l―”

“Do you _want_ me to key your car?” he shot out before she could enunciate another goddamn letter.

“Depends.” Sweet Pea glanced up at her, feeling even more chilled by the change in her tone than the metal under his back. “Do _you_ want to find another way to get here and home every day?” Toni crossed her arms tightly, but he knew she wasn’t really mad; his threat was so obviously hollow. Sweet Pea decided to play it smart and keep his mouth shut. He crossed his arms. Lying on this bench was starting to suck.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said eventually, because apparently his emotions were just running away with him today.

“I know, you idiot,” Toni answered warmly, administering a synchronized smile and kick to his ankle.

“Shit,” Sweet Pea muttered, sliding his ankles out of her reach by bending his knees.

“Things are…” she started, clearly trying to test the waters while Sweet Pea tried to keep his face neutral, “…going ok then?”

“With Betty?” Sweet Pea replied nonchalantly, reaching his arm down blindly to yank a clump of grass from Riverdale High’s golf course-like lawn.

“No,” Toni droned sarcastically (he could hear the eye roll without having to look), “with one of your other girlfriends, you fucking stud.”

Mortifyingly, Sweet Pea felt his face burn, probably in anger at the idea of himself being with anyone other than Betty. As if Betty, _his_ Betty, wasn’t enough. He cleared his throat, reminding himself not to bark at Toni just because he was the one purposely being hard to talk to.

“Things are going…” He was about to say ‘great’ or ‘fine,’ but it was so far beyond that. _Betty_ was beyond that. Fuck, he needed to splash some cold water in his face.

“I know, dude.” Sweet Pea looked at Toni and she was grinning. “You’re together _all_ the time,” she explained, “and you’ve clearly got Betty Brain.”

“Betty Brain? What the fuck is that?” His eyebrows jerked together as he gave her a thoroughly confused look.

“She’s on your mind. We were talking about the Spanish Civil War and she was still the first thing you thought of!” Toni was laughing now, whether with or at him, Sweet Pea couldn’t tell. Except that he wasn’t laughing.

“Jealous?” he snarked, still disconcerted.

Toni let her head fall back in exaggeration. “ _Hell_ yes. You don’t know how many times a day I wish Jughead was a chick.”

“What a shame that, even with boobs, it would still be Jones on the inside. There’s no improving him.”

“You guys need to get over yourselves and be friends.” Toni gave him a stern stare, like somehow that would make him listen.

“I’ve actually already made the one and only comment I plan on making about him in this conversation.”

“Don’t be a child.” Sweet Pea saw Toni’s slowly-swung kick coming for his shin so he grabbed her by the ankle before it could land. He gave a slight tug, demonstrating how he could jerk her off the table. “Ok, ok!” Toni waved her hands in panic. “Truce!”

He smiled smugly and released her. And then, before he knew what he was saying, he opened his mouth again.

“Do you think Betty could sit in on one of our counsels sometime? She’s seen some shit, you know?”

Toni’s face went very serious. Sweet Pea swallowed. She wasn’t his superior, but she felt like something much closer and more important. Like his conscience, or at least like someone he could bounce an idea off before he had to tell it to anybody else. Finally, Toni’s eyes met his.

“She’s not a Serpent, Sweet Pea,” she said simply.

That. That right there was where he knew he should have given up. Unfortunately, like knowledge of the Spanish Civil War, restraint was something Sweet Pea didn’t have a hell of a lot of.

He shrugged.

“But what if she was?”


	17. Stalking Stupidity, Courting Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and engaging with my story! Since I brought it almost fully-formed to AO3 (the first 14 chapters had originally been posted exclusively on FF), I wasn't sure what the reception would be like without the experience of having the story build up slowly, week after week. Your comments have really put me at ease and made me excited to continue updating here. I love hearing about what *you* loved!
> 
> It's a Sweet Pea-centric chapter this week, so settle in for tall, dark, and snarky.
> 
> Enjoy!

XVII

Something taught to children was that if they were ever in a situation where they had to choose between being an idiot and being a coward, they should be a coward. Some kid dares you to lick a frozen pole or touch a hot stove? Wimp the fuck out. Disregard your pride, your reputation, your favourite markers or whatever it is that you’ve wagered against your courage. Nothing is more important than your safety. Good lesson, Sweet Pea thought. Made a lot of sense. It just wasn’t what kids were taught on the South side.

Seeing as he was apparently that special caliber of stupid that just can’t be curtailed or corrected, Toni’s attempts to tell him that he should shove the idea of Betty turning Serpent back up his ass (where, she alleged, he must have pulled it out of in the first place) fell on willfully deaf ears. He knew the only way to get the idea out of his head was to take it to its limit. Recognizing that it―having his girl at his side all the time, not just at lunch or in Geography class―was something he wanted had been the most difficult step, the way confronting his own feelings always seemed to be. Fielding the idea to Toni had been next, as much as she always hated getting roped in to play the part of his conscience. After he’d pulled himself kicking and screaming out of denial _and_ proved to his best friend for the millionth time that he couldn’t be reasoned with, it was time to take it to the Serpents. That meant F.P. Jones and the rest of the folks unofficially comprising the upper levels of the gang hierarchy, not the counsel of 15-to-18-year-olds Sweet Pea usually operated within. Taking a matter to the top was pretty serious shit. On the one side of the power dynamic, seasoned Serpents had enough to deal with and didn’t want their time wasted. On the other, no righteous little punk wanted to present their case and get laughed down by every adult they knew, some of whom they probably admired. But if Sweet Pea’s personal judgement, plus advice from the wisest friend he had, couldn’t stop him, neither could anything else that should’ve scared him.

Besides that one thing. That thing that still had him laid out on his back on his bed, legs up at an angle to plant his feet against the wall, while he drummed his fingers on his chest when he should’ve already left for the Wyrm. The step he was avoiding really wasn’t so much a step as, well, a necessary part of the whole thing. The fact was, he had yet to bring up the idea of Betty joining the Serpents with Betty herself. The closest he’d come was having her slip into his jacket (twice), but it was pretty unlikely that she would make the jump between that and his secret desire for her to sport leather fulltime. There were moments―like the last time with the jacket, but others as well―when they could’ve talked about it, and he hadn’t been ready. _Fine_ , he admitted to himself, _I was afraid_.

Frustrated with himself, Sweet Pea let his head loll to the side, scrutinizing the Serpents jacket he had hung on his bedroom doorknob. He stared hard at the embroidered snake until his eyes burned, then rubbed a hand over his face and rolled out of bed. Literally rolled. The floor could’ve been cleaner, but he slapped his hands to it and started doing push-ups, thinking if he made his body more productive his mind might follow.

The biggest fear in his life right now, and one of the biggest _ever_ , was that his girl would say no to becoming a Serpent. It wasn’t the jacket, or the headquarters, or the gang at large that Sweet Pea was worried about. He knew Betty wasn’t hung up on that classist shit. He was terrified that she wouldn’t want to be with _him_ that badly, _him_ specifically. He exhaled hard, stirring up dusty bunnies, as confronting that thought gave him a sucker punch to the heart. After another painful thud of his heart, he continued with his push-ups. Why did he have these doubts? Well, Betty’d considered getting closer to the gang in the past, he’d seen it firsthand. She’d done the Serpent dance when she was dating Jones, and Sweet Pea knew it was Jones she’d done it for, not because she was desperate to run out and join a gang. There was simply no guarantee that she was ready to take that step for him, or that she ever would be. Sweet Pea heard the buzz of his phone and ignored it, repositioning himself and hooking his toes under his bedframe to start doing sit-ups.

He’d been watching Betty at school for a while, not in the way he usually watched her, in which he checked her out and kept his fingers crossed for another quickie in the _Blue and Gold_ office. This new surveillance was done for the purpose of assessing her; Sweet Pea had only been able to let the raw ache of his anxieties trouble him for so long before he decided to compare his fears to Betty’s real behaviour. He focused on trying to determine two things: would this be what she wanted, and could she do it? When he observed her from the other end of the hall or crossing the parking lot in the early morning, she was Betty Cooper: editor-in-chief of the school paper, darling of every classroom, friend to Archie ‘the sun shines out my ass’ Andrews and co., sometime cheerleader (Sweet Pea was still waiting to see pictures, with definite plans to pocket a few for his personal use)… she was perfect.

On the verge of an abdominal cramp, Sweet Pea forced himself to stop, standing up to stalk around his small bedroom instead. The thing was, when he stared at Betty and she caught his eye, as she did more often than not (he wondered how she knew he was looking, but had to admit it’d become a habit), he knew she was perfect in another way too. Lots of ways, actually. Betty was bold and resilient, a good listener and a fantastic lay. She was skilled at gathering information―especially on the sly and/or when someone didn’t want her to have it―and at fixing cars. If anyone from the life she’d been leading before Sweet Pea came into it had looked at her properly, they’d have seen it: she was a damn Serpent in every way. And she was perfect for him.

That settled it. He believed it firmly enough, and maybe foolishly enough, that he would go and talk to the gang, sort it out with them first. Then, when he told Betty, everything would be good to go. She’d have a spot ready and waiting for her. Sweet Pea had nobody to confer with about this (he checked his phone, saw he’d gotten a text from Toni, and decided to ignore it in case it was a rational argument to stop what he was about to do), so he threw his jacket on and flat-out ran for the Wyrm. His excitement made him feel hopeful rather than hounded while gravel crunched under his shoes like chewed ice. _She’ll do it_ , he thought. _They’ll say yes and then she’ll do it_.

Fifteen minutes later, after Sweet Pea had come flying into the bar (not as slick and cool as usual, it was true), located F.P., told him he wanted to put the idea of Betty Cooper joining the Serpents to a popular vote, and convinced F.P. that he wasn’t fucking around, he stood staring at everyone. Having that much attention on him made Sweet Pea feel pinned and agitated, like he was caught under a chopper spotlight in an action movie police chase. He’d repeated his request to them as though divulging his Christmas wish to a collective, leather-clad mass that would swarm together to form some kind of Transformer Santa Claus. It was pure madness inside his brain. Standing behind somebody else and nodding while they performed a call for action was such a different thing from doing it himself. By himself. Basically _for_ himself, until he managed to recover his balls and actually ask Betty if this was what she wanted. His breathing could have been steadier, but his senses responded with militaristic precision when the first Serpent broke the silence to weigh in. Of course, also responsible for the way his head flicked around could’ve been his colossal dislike for the speaker.

“No way,” declared the sentient asshole, pushing to the front of the assembled crowd. Sweet Pea glared at Jones, wondering if he’d materialized out of the shadows wearing that frown or if it was just some kind of magic trick that he always made himself appear where he was least wanted, looking miserable as hell. “We can’t just let Betty in here.”

“What, like we did with you?” Sweet Pea challenged, squaring his shoulders.

“Sweet Pea, come on―”

“This isn’t your issue.”

“It’s everyone in this room’s issue!” Something about watching Jones rant made Sweet Pea mind-numbingly bored. “Betty… Betty isn’t like us,” Jones finished, staring down at the floor of the bar moodily as he slowly shook his head.

“Hey,” Sweet Pea took a step towards the pain in the ass, snapping his fingers in Jones’s face to get his attention. “You don’t know a damn thing about her.”

A condescending pity look from Jones.

“I know she isn’t a Serpent.”

Sweet Pea squeezed his eyes shut so that he wouldn’t roll them in front of F.P. and the others. What he’d intended as a debate had turned into a two-man title match. Nobody was stepping in here. Obviously, no one else gave two shits whether Betty became a Serpent or not and they were letting Jones get all his post-Betty angst out of his system. Sweet Pea didn’t entirely blame them―Jones had been even harder to endure than normal since he’d dumped Betty and Sweet Pea was the only one there who’d had something so incredibly good happen in his life since then that he didn’t have to sit around and put up with the sonofabitch’s sulking day after day. Sweet Pea might’ve let the guy vent if it wasn’t totally derailing the vote _he’d_ called for and potentially ruining, you know, his one big chance at happiness.

“Jones,” he finally sighed, leveling a stare at the lesser man, “how did _you_ get in here?” Beanie Head _immediately_ tried to interrupt, but Sweet Pea wasn’t looking for an answer. “No, shut up. I’ll tell you how you got in. Because you’re F.P.’s son. Am I wrong?” He glanced first at F.P., who looked neutral but not in a savage way, then around the room.

“I think that’s about enough of you pointlessly bashing me,” the dickhead retorted, pulling ready-formed fists from his pockets. _Oooh, scary_ , Sweet Pea thought.

“I have a point. You’re F.P.’s son and Betty is Alice Cooper’s daughter.”

Pensive murmuring from many of the Serpents.

“It’s different,” Jones insisted.

“Bullshit,” Sweet Pea calmly replied. Someone laughed.

“No, it _is_.” He was frowning harder than ever. Not intimidating, but kind of disturbing. “I might have gone to school on the North side, but I grew up prepared for this life. Betty didn’t.”

“And we’re suddenly a group that judges people for how they grew up?”

Jughead took an angry, stomping step towards him and jabbed a finger that shied from poking Sweet Pea in the chest.

“Don’t twist my words,” he demanded. “Alice wasn’t cut out to be a Serpent, and neither is her daughter.”

“Maybe you forgot,” Sweet Pea said, just to Jones and in a voice that was calmer than he felt, “but just because you say something doesn’t mean we start carving it in stone.” Stepping back before he could be overcome by the urge to grab Jones by the throat, he addressed the rest of the gang. “We have ways to tell, don’t we? Isn’t that what the initiation is for?”

“Betty already did the Serpent dance,” Toni threw out. Finally some goddamn backup. He eyed his crony in partial annoyance as she hopped up to sit directly on the bar, casually crossing her legs. Sweet Pea wouldn’t have put even his ass on there, but hell, Toni’d wiped the bar lots of times, so it was her call if she wanted to trust the cleanness of the surface. “If she can handle something as disgustingly sexist―” Toni scanned them all with a critical stare, “―as _that_ , I think she deserves a shot.”

Sweet Pea gave Toni a solid nod and stood next to her.

“Well then,” F.P. finally and a little-too-cheerfully interceded, gaze sliding from Sweet Pea to Jones Junior and back, “let’s have a vote on giving Betty Cooper the chance to show us what she’s got during trial by initiation. For?” Sweet Pea and Toni’s raised hands were joined by those of nearly all of the Wyrm patrons. “Against?” The shithead and a few others.

Sweet Pea didn’t know what their deal was. Could’ve been they didn’t want any new members at all, or they’d been holding a grudge against Alice and thought opposing her daughter was some sort of revenge. He decided not to let it bug him. Something he’d noticed was that F.P. hadn’t voted. One vote wouldn’t have changed the outcome (Sweet Pea had gotten a few hearty backslaps even before F.P. had asked for the ‘no’ votes, the ‘yes’ voters so clearly being in the majority), so maybe their leader hadn’t seen the need to vote. Or maybe he didn’t think his sore loser son could take it.

Sweet Pea smirked to himself and then to Toni as the group dispersed, back to their drinking, conversations, pool, or a combination of the three. Apparently he looked a little too smug because she tried to land on his foot when she jumped down from the bar. They convened with the other young Serpents at their usual spot by Mortal Kombat. Even Jones wandered over, not looking too outwardly butt-hurt for the first time in his life. After Fangs quit trying to tip Toni’s chair backwards when she looked mad enough to pull a knife on him, they settled in and Sweet Pea started breathing normally again. Fuck, he hoped it’d be a long time before he had to get back up in front of everybody like that. With a final glare at Fangs, Toni scraped her chair closer to their table and leaned forward on her elbows. She glanced between Sweet Pea and Jones the Joyless.

“Why do you two assholes always do this?” Sweet Pea snorted, but Toni continued, talking over him. “You always force me to pick a side.”

He smiled a lazy, winner’s smile, feeling a little (just a _little_ ) warmer towards Jones.

“Once Betty’s a Serpent, we’ll all be on the same side,” Sweet Pea stated.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Jones groused.

Sweet Pea comforted him with a sarcastic pouty face, sticking out his lower lip. Jones gave him a _you must be fucking kidding me_ dead-eyed stare. The only cure for his mopey state, Sweet Pea determined, was a brotherly punch on the shoulder, which he reached across the table to deliver. The piece of shit rocked back then cocked his arm as he stumbled out of his chair, throwing a scrappy, wild little punch that caught Sweet Pea just above the eye. Sweet Pea leapt up and their friends had the brains to get the fuck out of the way as he and Jones started rearranging the furniture by shoving each other into it while trying to land the next punch. In the background, he heard shouting, then he was being wrestled out the door of the Wyrm, blood draining into his vision from his cut eyebrow. Depth perception gone wacky, Sweet Pea tripped and ended up on the ground. A skidding noise meant Jones was beside him. Sweet Pea grunted, wiping carefully around his eye, and looked sideways at his nemesis. For a long minute, Jones stared back, then they both got up and separated, heading for their respective beds.


	18. Ganging Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing separate author's notes for posting here and posting on fanfiction.net. I have no idea why. Here's to continuity!
> 
> Thank you, thank you for the comments and for continuing to follow my story! Chapter 18 this week. Yikes, right? How did this happen? IT WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE TWO OR THREE CHAPTERS! I don't think I've ever stated that, but it's true. I just get carried away and you kind people enable me with all of your positive feedback. Since Sweet Pea had free rein last chapter, I've dedicated the entirety of this one to letting Betty work through her own stuff. I once had a (perhaps overly) dramatic Modernist professor tell me to "beware of Nietzsche." To you I say "beware of Alice Cooper."
> 
> Enjoy!

XVIII

Compulsively, Betty rubbed her thumb into the arch of her socked foot, which she’d crossed over her opposite knee. Besides that movement, she was immobile, sitting stunned on the edge of her bed. Door closed, eyes blinking, she listened to Sweet Pea calling her name a time or two before she came back to herself enough to remember that she was still on the phone with him.

“You did _what?_ ” He’d explained it once already, but she’d zoned out partway through.

“I got them to vote on it,” he replied, his low voice sounding tense but excited. “You’re probably thinking I should have asked y―”

“On me becoming a Southside Serpent,” Betty interrupted, speaking mostly to clarify it for herself.

“Yeah. So I was thinking that you should come by so w―”

“Just give me a minute to process this.”

“Come on, Betty, you can’t even tell me to shut up? Maybe thinking you were Serpent material _was_ a mis―”

“Sweet Pea, shut up.”

His laughter gusted into her ear like a passing hurricane. Betty let it come and go as she slowly rolled her neck. How long had she been sitting so stiffly? On the other end of the line, her boyfriend was being patiently silent, unless he’d set his phone down and walked away from it to do something else, leaving her alone with this overwhelming, unasked for information. Would he do that? No, definitely not. He was just giving her what she’d requested. Betty sighed, staring hard at her white sock. This situation probably wasn’t one she should try to tackle on her own, as much as she felt the desire to pull away and somehow research her way out of it.

“You there?”

“Of course,” he said.

“What should I do?” she blurted out. Evidently, Sweet Pea was just as surprised as she was because it took him a minute to say something.

“You’re asking me?”

“Yes.” She clutched her foot, desperate for some measure of control.

“It’s just… you already know what I want. The Serpents don’t sit around every night picking a random citizen to invite into the gang. Your name came up because I brought it up. I want you in.”

“And no one said no?”

“It wasn’t unanimous,” he answered, sounding reluctant. Betty shifted nervously on her bed.

“Jughead?”

“You guessed it.” Sweet Pea sounded far from thrilled. “That doesn’t matter though. Pretty well everybody else voted yes.”

“And that’s official?”

“Well, we don’t use ballots and shit, but yeah,” he laughed, tone lightening, “it’s as official as it gets.”

“Wow. A gang wants to recruit me.” Her head cocked to the side. “And I never even planned to rush a sorority once I got to college.”

“Once you _get_ to college. You’re still going to be attending college, babe.”

“And I’m sure gang membership will be that extra little bit of community involvement that puts me over the top on my application form.” He was quiet long enough for Betty to realize how flippant she’d surely just come across. “I’m sorry. I’m…” she shook her head to jiggle the word loose, “…surprised.”

“I get it. I’ve been thinking about it longer than you have.”

“Yeah? How much longer?” She sat up straighter, ear pressed hard to her phone.

“Longer.” She could hear him smiling. “You know, I can take it if you’re mean to me, but this isn’t normal for you. Something up?”

Betty rubbed the heel of her hand harshly into her forehead and tried not to groan.

“A little trouble with Veronica. I’ll sort it out.”

“Duh. I know _that_. You need anything though?”

What a sweetheart. Betty smiled.

“Nothing but the nerve to confront it.” She tried to sound braver than she felt, even as she began to slump again. “Though I’m open to helpful suggestions.”

“Direct confrontation isn’t really my style.” Huh. Now that didn’t quite ring true. She felt it was within her rights as Sweet Pea’s girlfriend to roll her eyes. “But I could teach you how to sneak up and knife her.”

Betty made a noise that was half-gasp, half-laugh; she was possibly still a little pissed at Veronica.

“Didn’t you say suggestions?” he shot back, his voice pretend-offended at her reaction.

“Didn’t I say _helpful_?”

“Baby, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

Was it some distortion in their wireless connection, or did his voice always sound so sexy? Anyway, maybe not the time to get into that, Betty figured.

“Let’s talk about that soon. I’ll be able to think more constructively after I’ve heard all the details.”

“And had more time to ponder, or whatever it is you do. Yeah, yeah.” He said it kindly.

“Thanks,” Betty gushed, pushing to her feet. She headed for her door, imagining that a mug of hot cocoa would assist her in making sense of it all. “You know, it’s not every day I get asked to join the Serpents.”

She pulled the door open. On one side of the threshold: her. On the other: her mother, laundry basket full of clean, folded clothes propped on her hip. Expression? Falling short of congratulatory for what she’d unquestionably just overheard. _Oh shit_ , Betty thought and ended her call as calmly as she could.

* * *

“We aren’t finished here, Elizabeth!”

“I understand,” Betty gritted out, “I’m just going to answer the door.”

Betty separated from her mother, like a spark flicking away from a raging fire, and marched to the front door, leaving Alice fuming in the kitchen. She was just about ready to tear her hair out. What an awful coincidence that she’d been talking to Sweet Pea about confrontation right before she accidentally fell into one herself. At first, Betty had been prepared to be apologetic, patient, anything to throw herself on Alice’s mercy. She snorted a laugh in the stillness of the front hall. Sweet Pea might want to thank Alice after this because, if her arguments so far had done anything, they’d pushed Betty hard in a certain direction. And that direction was South with a capital ‘S.’ Only the ring of the doorbell had delayed her from saying as much to her mother’s face.

As she reached for the door handle, she heard voices from outside.

“Do we really need to do this now?”

Betty paused and craned her ear towards the door.

“Yeah, you do.”

“Let me rephrase that. _I_ don’t need to do this now. Or here! What about neutral territory?”

“This isn’t a war, Ronnie, and Betty’s not your enemy, she’s your best friend.”

Deciding she had enough on her plate without added anxiety from whatever potentially negative response Veronica was about to give, Betty swung the door open. Archie and Veronica both jerked their heads around to look at her, then turned their bodies too, moving out of ‘teenage domestic dispute’ stance and into ‘casually dropping by for a visit’ posture.

“B!” Veronica began with near-shrill enthusiasm and a smile to match. “Hi!”

Eyes moving slowly from one friend to the other, Betty smiled much more tamely in return.

“Heeey,” she drawled uncomfortably. “Why do you sound so surprised to see me?” This she addressed to Veronica. “I live here.”

“Fair question,” Veronica countered, pointing an index finger sharply skyward to emphasize her acknowledgement. “I didn’t actually realize I was coming to see you so much as I was tricked into it.” She shot a side-eyed glare at an innocently smiling Archie. “Is this a good time?” Veronica added, apparently remembering her manners.

Betty sighed, softening a little. She leaned against the door jamb and crossed her arms.

“You almost couldn’t have picked a worse one.” Two sets of eyebrows raised. Betty waved them forward. “Come inside.”

Veronica stepped over the threshold, but Archie backed away.

“Actually, I’m on Vegas duty tonight, but I’ll see you later, Betty.”

Betty watched Veronica rotate and send her boyfriend an unimpressed look.

“Slick,” she faux-complimented. The redhead grinned and bounded off the porch, heading home.

With a nervous look in her eye, Veronica faced Betty head-on, passing into the hall as Betty closed and locked the door. Betty felt a little sick. She hated not knowing what was coming.

“Elizabeth!”

Betty jumped at the sound of her mother’s (irate) voice. Veronica’s eyes widened.

“We’ll be right there, Mrs. Cooper!” Veronica cheerfully replied.

“How about we head in the other direction instead and don’t stop running until we hit Sweetwater River?” Betty mumbled. Was it right to vent to one of the two women in the house she was mad at? Fighting was exhausting. Nevertheless, she took a deep breath and reminded herself that Veronica hadn’t yet re-earned her ally status.

“It’s harder to avoid the people you live with. Trust me, I know from experience.”

Betty nodded automatically and moved to walk back into the kitchen. Veronica stopped her.

“Between you and me,” she said softly, “I think Archie’s just tired of listening to me whine.”

“About what?” Betty asked coldly, re-crossing her arms.

Veronica gave her a pained look.

“Everything. I’ve been miserable since our fight. How… how have you been?”

 _The truth?_ Betty wondered. She studied her friend’s face. Despite what she’d said, this was Veronica. She had flaws, but they were Veronica flaws, and Betty’d always known about them.

“Better. I’ve been better.”

Veronica reached out, probably to link their arms, but Betty dove in for a hug instead. It was so much easier to begin forgiving Veronica when Betty’s need for her was so crucial. When they pulled apart, Veronica took her hand and gave it a pat.

“So, give me a little warning. What are we walking into?” She nudged her chin in the direction of the kitchen.

“Sweet Pea recommended me to the Southside Serpents.”

“As their… newspaper correspondent?”

“As their newest member.”

Veronica’s mouth dropped open.

“Yeah,” Betty said, presumptuously summarizing Veronica’s emotions for her. “It’s time for you to be on my side again. Let’s go.”

Gripping tight to her hand, Betty tugged Veronica towards the kitchen, counting on her to reconsider every opinion she currently held about Betty’s relationship on the way.

* * *

Betty glanced warily back and forth between her mother and her friend, the former standing with one hand braced furiously against the kitchen island and the latter sitting demurely at her side. She’d just retold the facts: what Sweet Pea had said, who else knew, how he felt, how _she_ felt, etcetera, etcetera. Her mother had insisted; if Veronica wanted to share her opinion (and Betty was averring that she had to), she needed to be informed first.

“You explained it differently that time,” Alice complained haughtily.

“Well, I’m not a recording. And this time, no one was yelling at me as I talked,” Betty added, speaking through clenched teeth.

Alice gestured towards Veronica, who sat with saintly patience.

“Now you’ve biased her.”

“We’re all biased! This is about my life!” Betty snapped. She wanted to rise and shake her mother by the shoulders. Instead, she breathed and took a page out of Veronica’s etiquette book. “Say whatever you want, V,” she said calmly, turning to her friend.

Veronica stared back like there were many things she wanted to say right then. Thankfully, she evidently chose to keep them to herself a while longer.

“This is… surprising.” Betty knew Veronica was putting a spin on her reaction to seem more optimistic, but inside, her racing heart slowed to a brisk jog. “Surprising,” V continued, “if we’re thinking about Sweet Pea, but not so surprising if we’re thinking about Betty.”

“We _can_ only think about Betty. Until an hour ago, I didn’t even know Sweet Pea existed!” Alice threw in.

“Mom, you met him that night at the Wyrm,” Betty assured her. “You tried to get him drunk.”

Her mother’s face turned pink in angry embarrassment and she lost her momentum.

“As I was saying,” Veronica picked up, darting an assessing look between the Cooper women, “if Betty did this, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Were there warning signs? Why did nobody tell me about this guy she’s been seeing?” Alice shouted.

“It’s not about the guy,” Veronica contested, “it’s about Betty.”

Betty offered her friend a grateful smile. It was clear to her that Veronica wasn’t trying to be tricky with her answer this time. There was an honesty in her eyes that Betty knew to typically be reserved for apologizing. Technically, she guessed that _was_ what V was doing now.

“So I shouldn’t be shocked that my daughter wants to run off and join the Serpents because it somehow suits her personality?”

Alice was incredulous, but Betty gave her a hard stare and shushed her. She turned back to Veronica, looking into her eyes with expectation and permission.

“I can see that Betty would have tried this no matter what,” her friend began, glancing from mother back to daughter. “Betty’s…” Veronica shrugged, tried again “… Betty’s curious. She’s curious about the world and about herself. Ever since she found out about your history with the Serpents,” an anxious look at Alice, “she’s considered it part of her history too.”

Betty was nodding steadily. Finally, someone who could put it into words! That should’ve been her, and she hadn’t been expecting something so insightful from Veronica―frankly, the height of her hopes for Veronica’s contribution had simply been that they it wouldn’t totally crucify her―but she would take this acuity. Gladly.

“That’s ridiculous,” Alice stated, utterly ruining the girls’ moment of joint epiphany.

“No, she’s right,” Betty said, looking over at her. “You’re the one who raised me to be like you. Like mother like daughter.” She shrugged. “You can’t change that now. It’s too late.”

In her peripheral, Veronica looked uncomfortable.

“I suppose this decision is all you then?” Her mother’s voice was pure sarcasm now. Thick enough to dip a pen in and start writing. “I’m supposed to, what? Forget about the boy?”

“From what I’ve heard―and seen at school, for that matter―he wants her to do this with him, not for him,” Veronica proposed, glancing at Betty for affirmation. Betty nodded.

“For once I’m not _chasing_ somebody,” she told her mother exhaustedly. “I would just be doing the right thing.”

Alice was shaking her head, but had apparently run out of words. Betty felt Veronica’s hand on her shoulder and shifted to look at her.

“I know what it’s like to immerse yourself in your partner’s world,” her friend told her earnestly, “because that’s what Archie’s done for me. Insinuating himself so deeply into the family hasn’t just made my father like Archie, it’s made him respect him. And I can tell you something, B. Our relationship―mine and Archie’s―wouldn’t have worked without it.”

“Unbelievable!” Alice exclaimed. Betty whipped around in time to see her mother throwing up her hands and storming out of the room. It seemed she’d had one word left in her after all.

Exhaling loudly, Betty glanced at Veronica.

“I’m sure you’re still at least a little mad at me. How much of that was for my mom’s benefit?”

“Only the parts where I was _extra_ nice to you,” she joked, leaning across the gap between their chairs to nudge Betty’s shoulder with hers. Betty laughed, though it was a little weak thanks to the jetlagging stress of the conversation.

“Sweet Pea and I owe you a milkshake I guess.”

“That sounds good. You can pay for it from your joint account since, if you join the Serpents, you’ll practically be married to the guy.”

“Don’t let my mom hear you say that!” But it wasn’t Alice she wanted to shield from Veronica’s insinuation, it was herself. As game as Betty was to debate her acceptance of the gang’s invitation, she was still trying to ignore everything that might come after that. The initiation. Actually _being_ a Serpent. Living with it every day. She wondered whether her mother still had her tattoo or if that was another piece of her past that Alice had permanently parted ways with.

“Seriously though, B. It’s a commitment.” Veronica gave her a look that felt practically invasive.

“I don’t need another lecture from you.” Betty shifted away, beginning to feel awkward and irritated with her all over again. Veronica grabbed her arm.

“I’m not trying to give you one, just to tell you that I’m going to be on your side if you do this. Only as your friend, not as your therapist or your mom or your fairy godmother.”

Betty relaxed and Veronica released her.

“Too bad. That last one might actually come in handy.”

“Well, I’ll see what I can do. I know people.” Veronica gave her a playfully superior smile.

“Thank you,” Betty sighed.

“Hey, no promises!” Veronica warned.

“Not for _that_.”

“I know,” her friend replied, reaching out and pulling Betty’s arm over to tuck it up under her own.

* * *

To be continued...


	19. Betty Hits Her Stride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the readers who expressed anxious excitement wondering what Betty's next move might be. Well, she's got moves in this chapter, and Toni's the one to teach them to her. (Before you start guessing, they may not be quite what you think.) Plus, the return of Sweet Pea after the focus on Betty in the last chapter. I'm eager for you all to read this one!
> 
> Enjoy!

XIX

Ideally, Betty would’ve gotten a good long time to think over the big decision ahead of her. In reality, she got until she walked into Riverdale High on Monday morning. She recalled that, of course, all of the young Serpents already knew Sweet Pea wanted her to join the gang, because they’d been at the Whyte Wyrm for the vote; the assessing stares they gave her as she walked to her locker (and between classes throughout the day) helped keep her memory sharp on that particular point, even when a growing anxiety in her began to blur the details. No one was hostile, as she belatedly thought to prepare herself for, but the looks were curious. Betty bet she knew what they were thinking: _This girl? A Serpent?_ She was thinking it too, even though she’d tried to dress a little more the part, push herself farther from the bullseye center of her comfort zone. This morning, she’d gone for minimally torn black jeans, a dark draping t-shirt with a deep scoop neck, loose hair in untamed waves, and a button-down blouse that she would previously have fastened up to her chin tied around her hips instead. The only sign that she was still living her life somewhere in the realm of her old familiar was the footwear: white tennis shoes. Betty admired the poise that high heels gave Veronica and appreciated the way they closed the gap a little between her own height and Sweet Pea’s, but she couldn’t do them every day. Besides, the idea of making her choice with her feet planted flat on the ground, both metaphorically _and_ physically, calmed her.

The way Sweet Pea acted towards her was the most important. When Betty got to her locker, he was there and continued to stick close for the duration of the day. (Veronica showed up at her locker too, for the first time in ages putting in an appearance not purposely scheduled around Sweet Pea’s absence.) He always had a hand somewhere on Betty―winding her hair around his fingers, slinging his arm across her shoulders, taking her hand and pulling her closer no matter how close together they were already walking or sitting. Apparently, he wasn’t worried about scaring her off. Betty felt the weight of that confidence and thought hard about it.

What Sweet Pea wasn’t doing was talking. Well, he was talking, just not about the topic she knew must be on both of their minds. The hallways of Riverdale High weren’t the most appropriate forum, but ignoring the subject was eating her up. The one who finally offered some relief by addressing it head-on was Toni. Under the guise of getting Betty’s advice on a World History paper redo (something about Spain―she couldn’t remember afterwards), Toni pulled her away from the other Serpents over the lunch hour.

“I thought you might like a heads up,” she started when they’d settled on a vacant classroom for their apparently private chat. Betty wasn’t sure they should be in there, but forced the opinion right back out of her head. It wasn’t how a Serpent thought, so it wasn’t for her.

“About your paper?” Betty’s forehead scrunched in confusion. “You can’t have done _that_ badly that you think I need a disclaimer before reading it.”

Toni laughed freely.

“I appreciate that. Actually, I’m talking about _the offer_.”

Raised eyebrows encouraged Betty to catch on. She did. Breathed deeply. Toni must have seen the understanding in her expression because she hopped onto the nearest wooden desk. Betty copied her, wondering what was coming.

“I got the impression that no one was supposed to talk to me about that, aside from the general information I’ve gotten from Sweet Pea.”

“Technically… we’re not.” Toni smiled conspiratorially. “Ideally, anyone new to the gang is supposed to go into the initiation blind―” Betty felt her eyes widen and Toni waved a panicked hand. “Oh no, Betty, not literally. They go into it without knowing what to expect. Of course, with membership becoming more of a family affair over the years, there are no secrets anymore, at least not among Southsiders.”

“So I’m a bit of a novelty, is that what you’re saying?” Betty found herself smiling, though the idea should’ve made her uneasy.

“Exactly right. In my opinion,” Toni pressed her fingers to her chest, “it’s bullshit, but it’s not my decision.”

“I’m going to have to conclude that the purpose of this meeting was to get my hopes up,” Betty joked.

“Not so fast. I can’t tell you what the initiation will consist of, but I _can_ tell you what won’t be included. Sound good?”

“That’s something. Better than Sweet Pea’s offered.”

“He doesn’t want to show favouritism.”

There was a pause.

“Too late for that,” they said in unison and burst out laughing. Betty felt so grateful for Toni’s camaraderie in that moment she could’ve leapt off the desk and hugged her, but worried that, again, it wouldn’t be very Serpent of her to do so.

“Ok, tell me,” Betty urged.

“No babysitting Hot Dog,” Toni began.

“ _What?_ That’s the only thing I was actually hoping for. Why not?”

“They don’t want him taken to a home on the Northside. Old prejudices die hard.” Toni rolled her eyes.

“Bummer.”

“Yep.”

“Next?”

“You won’t have to put your hand in the snake box.”

“I’m sorry… the _snake box?_ ”

Toni waved off Betty’s concerned tone.

“Not your problem. You did the Serpent dance, which the _male_ Serpents have finally come to acknowledge requires about the same amount of balls to do as baiting a live snake.”

“Thank goodness for that, I guess.” Betty stared at her knees, still feeling shaken. Gradually, she raised her head to catch Toni’s eye. “Did you do it?”

With a slow smile, Toni replied: “Yes. But before you start thinking it’s some kind of unofficial requirement and that you’ll be branded a wimp if you don’t, you should know I didn’t do the Serpent dance.”

“Right. What kind of idiot would volunteer for a thing like that?” Betty asked sarcastically. Toni reached across the aisle and squeezed her knee.

“What you did was badass. End of story. We wouldn’t be here talking now if you hadn’t, remember?”

Betty laughed at the reminder of what had first made Sweet Pea approach her.

“True. Any other tips?”

“Not verbal ones.”

“… Meaning?”

“I’m going to teach you how to fight.”

From then on, after every River Vixens practice, Toni and Betty went to the weight room off the gym instead of changing and heading out with the rest of the girls. The timing made sense; since Toni had joined the squad, they knew they’d be in the same place at the same time and already warmed up. Seeing as Betty had told Veronica everything she knew about the invitation and the upcoming initiation, Veronica was more than welcome to hang back as well, she simply chose not to. It was fine―Betty could tell her best friend was flattered just to have been asked.

So in a room that always stank of sweat, Betty grew accustomed to another constant: the sound of her own grunts of exertion echoing off the walls as Toni taught her how to be quick on her feet and how to throw a punch without breaking her thumb. After each session, Betty went home tired and sore, unsure whether she was learning to hit for fun, illegal intimidation, or self-defence. She never compromised her ever-improving bond with Toni by asking. All the effort was making her want to plead for details from her boyfriend, except that her arm was too tired to lift the phone to her ear. Actually, Betty was getting the sense that Toni was purposely keeping them apart, or inserting herself into their conversations. Most likely she didn’t want her best friend to get in trouble for blabbing something, but between losing the privacy of their exchanges and being otherwise too worn out to let him take her out, Betty was missing doing more than just sitting next to her guy.

Life at home hadn’t been looking any better. Her mother eyed her from the time she got in the door until she went to bed. Mealtimes were unnerving, inspiring memories of Chic she’d prefer to have forgotten. For two weeks, it went on like that, then on the morning of a Vixens practice day (meaning it was also a ‘Betty’s personalized boot camp’ day), Alice offered Betty a Tupperware container as she was leaving the kitchen after breakfast. Betty frowned.

“What’s this?”

“Honestly, Betty,” her mother rolled her eyes like the two words her daughter had spoken had exhausted her patience. “It’s a salad.”

“But I usually make my own lunch.” It was true. Her mother had always believed that teaching her daughters to be self-sufficient for their lunches balanced out the lengths she went to in preparing Rockwellian dinners most nights and picture-perfect breakfasts each weekend.

“Here,” Alice said, thrusting the container towards her again. “I put chicken in it. You need the extra protein.”

Still feeling suspicious, Betty accepted the salad. She really hadn’t compensated in her diet for the extra energy she was burning. As independent as she was, it was nice to have a mother looking out for her. It would probably be quite a shock for Alice to find out what exactly it was that she was helping boost Betty’s energy for. Based on the way her mother kept their exchange short, Betty could only assume that it was a don’t ask, don’t tell situation. If Alice had wanted to pry, her daughter knew she would have.

Another week passed and Betty not only began to feel less tired, but more content ―excited, even. She was certain that Toni had been able to sense her anger before, which would build and build during their hour in the high school gym, and had taken no offense from it since the irater Toni’s demands made Betty, the better she ultimately performed. Betty only figured out how ready Toni was for that stage of her progression to pass once it had. Then, they actually started to have fun together. It was better than the Vixens practice that preceded it because no one was screaming at them. They had both unwound enough that Toni was transitioning into Betty’s guide to general Serpent culture, not just fight etiquette. Apparently Betty, having grown up 100% certified organic Northsider, had a lot of catching up to do. Repetition of the Serpents laws was squeezed into every session.

Toni would cut the lunges and uppercuts short to demonstrate to Betty how to put more of a _fuck you_ attitude into her casual posture, how to literally loosen her ponytail a little (as Toni had once snarkily suggested, back when they’d been engaged in a passive-aggressive tug-of-war over Jughead), even how to further toughen her look with darker, more sultry eye makeup. Given that Toni was more show than tell, Betty went home one day with shadow like a soft, black raincloud hovering above her pale green eyes. She’d been doing overtime to work on her pissed off look in case her appearance was criticized, but she knew it wouldn’t be wise to test it on her mother; she tried to creep silently through the foyer to the stairs, planning to skip their daily kitchen encounter, but before she’d gained the first step…

“Hold it.”

Alice’s voice from the kitchen. Betty turned. Not even that far―her mother was already leaning against the doorway _into_ the kitchen. Defeated, Betty rotated to fully face her mother, eye cast down, then up when she realized Alice would be able to see less of her heavy makeup that way. Of course, it was too late for that. Alice Cooper noticed everything. She crossed to Betty at the speed of the one who still makes the rules, no matter which gang her youngest child is trying to run off and join. That is to say, leisurely. Cupping Betty’s chin, she examined Toni’s handiwork. At least it was good, Betty thought. Not like her own early explorations with makeup, when she’d been more daring as well as more likely to end up with a face that was closer to Goth than glamour. Her mother’s grip relaxed, then dropped, and then she exhaled, sounding relieved.

“I thought you’d been hit,” she explained calmly. Betty’s eyes widened slightly. Not the swift and hellish punishment she’d been anticipating, but not something she wanted to leave her mother thinking either.

“Sweet Pea would _never_ ―”

“I wasn’t thinking of Sweet Pea.” Betty was almost positive it was only the second time her mother had actually spoken her boyfriend’s name. “I just know what you’re training for,” Alice continued, surprising Betty again. A smile appeared to warm her mother’s previously chilly expression. “I remember _my_ first black eye…” She touched her daughter’s cheek lightly and Betty curled her own fingers around her mother’s palm, searching for an anchor as the conversation made her feel more and more at sea.

“You know what I’ve been doing?”

“You’re dedicated,” Alice noted, still smiling knowingly, “and smarter about it than I was when I joined.”

“Are you… ok with this now?” she cautiously ventured.

Smiling fading without remnant, her mother turned abruptly and left Betty standing next to the stairs, confused all over again.

* * *

The Serpents were about loyalty, but they were also about freedom and from the moment Betty had shown signs of interest in the offer he’d made her (that the entire gang had made her, if you wanted to get fucking technical about it), her schedule had become tighter than the sweaters she used to wear. Toni’s ass-kicking lessons got added and nothing got dropped, since his best friend joining the Vixens had made it totally cool to be both a Serpent and a cheerleader. It was a major pain in the ass, except he couldn’t complain to Toni because she’d ice him out and quit giving him a lift to school, and he couldn’t complain to Betty because she was doing it all for him. (That was how he chose to interpret it.) Sure it was sweet, but what was also sweet was getting his hands on the girl who Toni was shaping into a proper little miscreant and had anybody’s schedule taken _that_ into consideration? No, they wanted him to suffer.

Finally, during the narrow window of time between the end of his gym class and the beginning of her Vixens practice, Sweet Pea managed to shoulder his way onto Betty’s timetable. The first step had been shouting to the other guys loitering in the locker room that afternoon that one of the toilets in the adjoining bathroom was overflowing; incredible how quickly that kind of information could clear a room, and that no one would bother to check. The second step was nabbing his target (his girl) from the hallway, based on his knowledge of when her practice started and the fact that she was always early. Too early and she’d still be at her locker, stowing her books. Too late and the rest of the squad would be with her. Naturally, Sweet Pea had a knack for this sort of maneuver and caught her just in time, darting out, grabbing Betty’s hand, and towing her into the vacant locker room behind him.

Before she could get out more than an “Oh, hi!” he was kissing her, staggering aimlessly with his eyes closed as he held her tightly and moved in a general _away from the door_ direction. She fell willingly into his arms―he guessed he hadn’t been the only one missing their time alone together. Having had to enact his flooded toilet ruse halfway through changing in order to make it convincing, Sweet Pea now had Betty pressed to his bare torso with only his lower half clothed. Her hands were chilly as they travelled up his arms, but he was still warm from running suicide drills in gym. Track and field season was coming up and he could tell the sprint was going to be a competitive event with their blended Bulldogs/Serpents class. As Sweet Pea’s hands dropped from Betty’s back to grab her ass and keep her snug against his growing erection, he traced the lower hem of her Vixens shorts and wondered if the cheerleaders performed at track meets. Might be worth going out for high jump or something.

Just when he’d deepened the kiss enough to make Betty groan hungrily and slip her hands down his abs while one of his crept up under her shirt to touch her bare lower back, the locker room door flew open. _Shit_ , Sweet Pea thought, more annoyed than worried about being in trouble.

“Oh my god!” It was Kevin. “I just came back to get my shoes… for wrestling,” he finished, looking away from then back at Sweet Pea.

“Right,” Sweet Pea acknowledged edgily, removing his hands from anywhere too interesting on Betty’s body and turning her by the waist. Keeping her between him and Kevin was crucial since he didn’t want him knowing the full extent of the situation he’d interrupted.

In another few seconds―Sweet Pea suspected thanks to a look from Betty that he hadn’t seen―Kevin became a little less jumpy, giving them a grin to signal… maybe that he wasn’t traumatized?

“I feel like I just walked into my fantasy, except you wouldn’t be here,” he said to Betty, “and you―” he pointed at Sweet Pea, “―would be John Stamos, circa 1991.”

Betty twisted her head to glance up at Sweet Pea, possibly looking for confirmation that this was really happening right now. He knew that’s what _he_ was looking for when he stared back at her. Her nose crinkled as she turned her blushing face towards her friend.

“John Stamos? Really?”

Kevin’s head ticked side to side as he seemed to re-examine his choice.

“I think it’s mostly the hair,” he concluded.

What were they doing? Having a fucking casual conversation? No way. This was cutting into his Betty time.

“Speaking of hair,” Sweet Pea butted in, “would you mind getting out of ours?” He jerked his head towards the door.

“That was blunt,” Betty hissed at him. He didn’t care.

“Of course! You know what? The shoes can wait until tomorrow.” Kevin made a hasty escape.

Once the door had banged shut, Sweet Pea turned his girl back around to face him. He was smiling. She wasn’t.

“We’re going to have to apologize for that,” Betty told him sternly.

“I’ll catch up to Kevin when you go to Vixens practice,” he promised her.

It would suck, but in his mind it would start to even out what she was doing for him. Or what he assumed she was doing for him. Now that he thought about it, had he ever gotten a clear confirmation that she planned to join? It felt like the time to ask her, until she gripped the back of his neck and began kissing him again. Smirking against her lips, Sweet Pea steered Betty backwards into the lockers, a hollow thump as she leaned against the thin metal doors. His hips nudged forward to meet hers and her fingers pushed up into his hair. When she touched her embarrassment-warmed palms to his chest, Sweet Pea broke away from her mouth and ducked his head to kiss her neck instead. He sucked at her soft skin, thinking he might give those other girls something to be jealous of when Betty walked into practice.

“I’m ready,” Betty gasped, breaking both his concentration and the seal of his mouth on her neck.

“Great,” he panted back, eyes half-closed, letting go of her hips to unbutton his jeans.

“No!” She erupted into breathy laughter, like rejection was funny as hell. “For the initiation,” she explained, touching her palm gently to his cheek.

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” Sweet Pea said, pulling back from her to see her face more clearly. Well, he’d give her that one. What she’d meant was better news for him in the long run. If only he weren’t such an instant gratification kinda guy.

“Yeah,” she went on with a shy smile. “I’m starting to feel like I’m as ready as I’ll ever be―thanks to Toni.”

He smiled. His girl was always one to share credit. Just another thing that would serve her well in the gang.

“Well, wow. I’m really…” Every word felt wrong so Sweet Pea yanked Betty into his arms instead, hiding his smile in her hair. “Just when I was starting to wonder if I should tell you I love you to try to influence your decision.”

Her head jerked back.

“You do?”

_These fucking Northsiders_ , he thought with a smirk. _So surprised when somebody actually says what they mean_.

“Of course.”

She smiled and flopped forward against him with a sigh that made him laugh.

“Me too,” she said.

After a minute of hugging her fiercely, he gave Betty’s squiggly ponytail a light tug.

“Time to go cartwheel the shit out of that practice.”

She snorted and stepped sideways to get out from between Sweet Pea and the lockers.

“Don’t you know anything about cheerleading?”

“I don’t know anything about anything with you looking like that.” He let his gaze move slowly down her body.

“Shut up, Sweet Pea,” she quipped playfully, making for the door.

He took a long stride after Betty to give her a firm slap on the ass. She glanced back and raised a challenging eyebrow.

“Go get ‘em,” he told her, so fucking proud.


	20. He Who Waits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Handing out individual roses to each of you who have continued to read my story, but not in a "The Bachelor" kinda way* Thanks, guys :) You'll find a longer A/N at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

XX

“She’ll be here,” Toni assured him for the millionth time. She made a grab for Sweet Pea’s jacket to stop his pacing, but he shook her off. “The girl’s as attached to punctuality as the White Rabbit.”

“I hope she’s thinking more about the Whyte Wyrm than the White Rabbit.”

The two of them had holed themselves in a corner of the bar farthest from where most of the Serpents had gathered, as if that would really make Sweet Pea less anxious. As if there was any other way out than through. Scuffing his foot hard against the floor, he forced himself to stand still a minute.

“You don’t _really_ think she’s not coming, do you?” Toni asked. Leaning against the wall with her knee bent and her arms loosely folded, she looked so casual it almost made him sick. That’d be something. Puking at someone else’s initiation. He gripped the back of the nearest chair.

“What if she doesn’t?” he muttered, not looking at his friend. He heard Toni sigh deeply.

“Then we chill here while everybody gets drunk enough to forget they showed up tonight for any reason besides the regular one, and then tomorrow you call Betty and talk it out.”

“So you think she’s not coming?” He glanced sideways at her, his expression feeling a little desperate. Toni shot him her standard no bullshit look.

“I think you’re being a fucking idiot and that you better hope I don’t tell Betty how much you were doubting her.”

“I’m not!” He shoved the chair roughly so that it banged into its table. Took a long breath. Met Toni’s disbelieving stare. “Sorry. I’m not doubting her.”

She gave him a slight smile and pushed away from the wall. In a move that nobody else (sparing Betty) could’ve gotten away with without feeling his blade at their throat, Toni reached out and held his hand―which was a real testament to their friendship, since his palm was sweaty as hell.

“Your girl’s ready,” she stated.

“Thanks for doing that.”

Toni shrugged.

“I owed her for fixing my piece of crap car.”

“What if she gets hurt?” The question struggled even to come out as a whisper. It was what he feared the most. Somebody’s raucous laughter from a nearby pool table made him flinch.

“We can prepare her, but we can’t do anything to make sure she walks in here a Serpent. Only the initiation can do that.”

“I want to warn her.” Sweet Pea found he was gripping Toni’s hand, so he let go of it altogether. Wishful thinking didn’t help. What pulled him out of his funk was his best friend laughing. He glared at her.

“I know you do. Hell, everyone knows. That’s why F.P. confiscated your phone this morning.”

“That and I thought it’d be funny to fill your search history with really weird porn,” the Serpent leader said next to his ear, making Sweet Pea jolt. With all the noise in the bar, he hadn’t heard F.P. come up. Some loyal friend Toni was; she hadn’t bothered to warn him. F.P. clapped him on the shoulder, laughing. _Boy_ , Sweet Pea thought irritably, _everybody’s having the time of their goddamn life tonight_.

“Sick old man,” he fired back with a grin, knowing F.P. would forgive him. Sure enough, the man smiled just long enough to nod to Toni and haul Sweet Pea off into a private conversation, wrapping a fatherly arm around his shoulders, though he had to reach up to do it.

“Feeling alright? Nervous?” F.P.’s eyebrows raised in honest interest. Serpents were supposed to look out for each other and their leader always set the precedent.

“Fine, except that my whole fucking relationship with Betty hangs on this.” Finally, Sweet Pea was laughing too. Unfortunately, it was humourless.

“Not just your relationship with Betty.” F.P. looked away from him and nudged Sweet Pea around to make their gazes run parallel. Their target was Jones. The little sourpuss one, who seemed out of place sitting at a table with the rest of their more boisterous crew of young Serpents.

“He’s hopeless,” Sweet Pea spat, more out of habit than hatred. Disliking Jones was an exhausting hobby. He wished he could take it in shifts like paid labour rather than on a strictly volunteer basis.

“Oh really?”

Sweet Pea couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jones to see if the shit he was talking about him was having a negative effect on his father’s benevolence. Anxiety over Betty’s absence curdled around his heart like a post-mortal goo, turning to anger that he could redirect at Jones.

“Yeah. Whatever his problem is, it’s shoved so far up his ass that a thorough physical wouldn’t be able to find it.” He cleared his throat and glanced out of the corner of his eye at F.P. No more smile. Shit. Time to grovel. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be saying anything but thank you for doing this for me.”

“For you?” Eyebrows way up. “Kid, I’m not doing anything for you, besides not kicking you out of the Wyrm for talking about my son like that.” F.P. smirked. “Betty’s helped us out more than once. She’s an asset. She deserves to be in.”

“I thought you didn’t―” Sweet Pea couldn’t turn his head back towards Jones now.

“Because of Jughead? We have differing opinions more often than not.”

“But you didn’t vote.”

“You didn’t need my vote,” he said kindly. “And yes, that might have been one small instance of me trying to spare Jughead some pain.”

F.P. backed away from Sweet Pea, palms turned up in joking supplication. At least Sweet Pea now knew the resistance to Betty’s acceptance into the gang didn’t go any higher than Jones. If it was just Jones, he could contend with that. With Betty by his side, he could even forget it.

“Pep talk?” Toni inquired, coming up to him and bumping her elbow into his arm.

“More or less.”

“Come on, let’s go wait by the bar. You need a little noise to get your own voice out of your head.”

Sweet Pea wanted to argue, but she was right so he just shrugged. They crossed the room in silence though sound roared up around them like water from the belated dreams he’d had of drowning after they’d flooded Riverdale High. Oddly, the dreams hadn’t been as frightening as they’d sound if he tried to describe them to someone. Toni leaned into his arm to avoid running into someone and he realized that she hadn’t taken the bartending shift tonight. Usually, she picked up whenever she could, or bullied whoever was scheduled into giving up their hours to her. She was saving for college, he knew. One of the few of them smart enough to bother. And what was _his_ future going to be? Jumpy, Sweet Pea rolled his shoulders and felt the jacket he’d earned through blood, sweat, and snakebite make the weighty shuffling noise of worn-in leather. Suddenly, Toni gripped his forearm. She was looking away from him, into the shifting crowd.

“Hey, isn’t that―”

But he couldn’t look at whatever had caught his friend’s attention. Unconsciously, Sweet Pea raised his hand and laid it across Toni’s mouth to shut her up; though she’d be justifiably pissed, it was the fastest way, as he’d learned when they were children and she was still a goddamn chatterbox, before turning into this soft-spoken, pseudo-mysterious gang chick. Toni bit down on his knuckle, trusting the cleanliness of his hand probably more than Sweet Pea would’ve, and he barely felt it. Like slow-motion, he watched something bright white enter the Wyrm. His hand dropped as his suddenly-monotonous kin in their black leather stepped aside―a pack of grim reapers parting for an angel. Sweet Pea’s appreciative whistle died in the still air in front of him, probably hoping for the angel to escort it to heaven. Though the sight of Betty had him practically trembling all over, he felt her appearance most in his stomping heart, already impatient for her to get to him. He watched her eyes shift side to side, undoubtedly scared shitless walking into a gang bar full of people staring at her (he assumed, though he wasn’t about to take his own eyes off her to check where anybody else was looking), but looking sexy and in control ringed by dark makeup. Her gaze slipped across his, made contact, held like somebody’d squirted a fuckton of superglue all over it. Apparently feeling more confident after finding him, Betty tossed her hair and strode towards him with purpose. Sweet Pea’s knees wanted to buckle.

“ _Damn_ ,” Toni whispered next to him. “And I don’t even dig blondes.”

Sweet Pea started towards Betty, though he still had to force people out of his way since he lacked the sheer beauty to move them with his presence. Her eyes left his, probably checking him out since he was fully suited and booted tonight, looking like 90s punk meets 80s glam metal with his jacket hanging open and his jeans snug to his legs, butt, and anywhere else anyone cared to look. Broken eye contact was Sweet Pea’s permission and his gaze traveled her body like it didn’t need to stop for borders. The white crewneck muscle T, cropped a few inches south of two of his favourite parts of her, showed off her arms and stomach, letting him see the work she’d put in with Toni’s training regimen and making her look like the damn mechanic of his dreams. It took him right back to watching her dirty her hands under the hood of Toni’s car. He breathed shakily through his nose and ran his gaze downwards. Tight jeans on her tonight too, so low they could beat you at limbo. Sweet Pea pinched himself hard in the thigh, only stopping when he was close enough to put out his hand and offer it for Betty’s taking. If the rest of the bar was still talking, he couldn’t hear them.

“You look―”

“I know.” She cocked her head, those green eyes flaring compellingly. He got lost in them for a few seconds. Then she blinked. “Seriously though, is this ok?” She gestured down at the outfit Sweet Pea had already imagined six different ways of ripping off her. “I didn’t know what would be practical.”

Taking a long drink of her arrogance, Sweet Pea raised an eyebrow.

“It’ll work. We like to keep the dress code in the neighbourhood of gunrunner-casual.” He was dying to put his hands on her, gaze going in the opposite direction he was trying to mentally talk his dick out of.

“I hope that’s not a reference to my initiation task. I’m not even carrying, let alone cocked.” Betty glanced slyly down and looked back up with the swagger she’d begun with. “Are you?” She smirked.

Pulse thumping, Sweet Pea could’ve started swinging when Jones showed up at the edge of his vision.

“We might as well get this…” that annoying fucker began.

The moment Jones opened his mouth, Sweet Pea had opened his own and the way he subsequently grabbed the back of Betty’s neck and hauled her, one-handed, into a kiss turned down the volume on Beanie the Vampire Slayer real quick. Knowing that Jones would we watching, would be too aware of making himself a coward by looking away, Sweet Pea made it one to remember. It was a dirty kiss, his hands in her hair and his tongue in her mouth and Betty’s hand laid along the length of his throat like a 90 degree rotation and a squeeze was all that kept them from becoming the lead couple in a _Heathers_ remake―head over heels and homicidal. Her other hand ever-so-lightly touched the waist of his jeans and that power move could’ve kicked the whole thing off if Jones’s father hadn’t stepped in with a loud cough. Well, Sweet Pea figured as he took a step back from his girl and her rubbed-red mouth, he could complete it in his fantasies.

What he wanted most in that moment (of the things that seemed possible) was to be sure that he’d sufficiently claimed Betty in Jones’s eyes. Unfortunately, those eyes weren’t looking at him; Jones was staring unfocusedly off to the side, nodding slowly to himself and biting the inside of his cheek. The guy’s thoughts weren’t even in the room with them, probably up with the mothership, but he wasn’t making trouble which, though less fun for Sweet Pea, meant that Betty’s initiation could go forward. A nod from F.P. had the rest of the gang closing in around them. Betty’s hand darted out to grip Sweet Pea’s. Intimidation was all it was, he was familiar from practice, so he shook her off to do her a favour. Neither one of them wanted her seeming afraid.

“Once you’ve caught your breath, Betty,” F.P. started with a teasing smile that had Sweet Pea’s girl turning pink, “I want you to look around at the people in this room―the people who will become closer than friends, possibly closer than family to you if you pass this initiation.”

Sweet Pea took another step away from her to become part of that encircling wall. Now Betty was alone in the center, a white iris, and he saw her studying them; she was obviously taking F.P.’s words seriously. The Serpents who’d been in the farthest corners of the bar were congregating, making the group sway and press in tighter. He found himself shoulder to shoulder with Jones, who looked scared for her, judging by the way he was frowning. (Most of Jones’s expressions _did_ involve frowning and Sweet Pea had learned to tell the difference.) It was enough to stir up a little humanity in Sweet Pea, who gave his brother-in-arms a reassuring nod. Betty’s gaze moved over both of them, but it was strategic rather than affectionate. When she glanced back at F.P., he made her recite the laws. Even the crowd of menacing strangers around her couldn’t throw Betty on this one―she appeared to take it as coolly as she sat routine tests at school and there was scattered applause when she was done.

“Now,” F.P. continued, taking Betty by the shoulders and turning her in a circle as he spoke, “I want you to pick one of these people and beat the shit out of them.”

His hands fell from her shoulders in time for Betty to whip around in confusion and confront him.

“ _What?_ ”                                                

“You’ve learned our laws,” F.P. intoned with that mania in his eyes that only expressing devotion to the Serpents could inspire, “done the Serpent dance, proven yourself as an ally and a defender of our members and interests, and there’s just one last thing we ask of you.” He raised his voice, seeming to make the group vibrate with it. “WE NEED TO KNOW, BETTY COOPER, THAT YOU WILL FIGHT FOR US WITH ACTIONS AS WELL AS WORDS. THAT YOU WILL NOT HESITATE.” With a huff, F.P.’s volume dropped again. “If you can hit one of us, you can hit one of our enemies.” He spread his arms so wide that the backs of his hands tapped the chests of the members standing closest. “So choose.”

Although Sweet Pea knew what a naturally curious person Betty was, he was thankful that she was smart enough not to ask questions here. She began to step forward―first in one direction, then another―and he was sure that her brain was making the same darting attempts at picking the correct path. Sweet Pea shoved back against the people behind him, forcing them to make space for her if she wanted to peruse her options like she was walking down the aisle of a grocery store. He never took his eyes off his girl, practically feeling the way her heart was hammering under the white shirt that might soon be splashed with blood from someone’s breaking nose or her own improperly curled fingers (he hoped Toni’d taught her how to protect her thumb). She was already making fists, likely on the instruction of the anxiety she concealed well, but that he knew sometimes clawed at her, just beneath the surface. Everything in him wanted to help her, yet he stood stiffly for now, expression unfeeling, while they remained on opposite sides of the invisible line that divided Serpents from everybody else.

Betty shook out her arms, hands unclenching, and settled serious eyes on face after face. She jostled her way deeper into the crowd that wasn’t stepping aside for her now. Would she choose one of them, a stranger, to get through the trial by keeping it impersonal? No, she pushed back into the middle of the group. She stood in front of F.P. Would she choose him, gain the gang’s acceptance by demonstrating that she had the nerve to single out their leader? No, she turned away. Faced Fangs, who couldn’t keep a straight face. Would Betty knock that grin off? No. Put herself toe to toe with Toni, the one who’d prepared her for this, knowing the whole time what Betty would be walking into tonight. Would Betty show her new friend what she’d learned in the most straightforward way possible―by using it against her? Once again, no.

Her eyes kept scanning, her feet kept changing direction.

She stopped at Jones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is officially near. While I'm thankful to anyone who was hoping this story would continue on and on forever, I've known for a long time where I wanted to conclude it, it was just a matter of getting there. I want you to know that when I started this story, I never imagined it stretching beyond 5000 words, let alone 10,000... let alone 50,000. Your interest and support did that, allowing me to turn this into something bigger and more complex than I'd first imagined it could be. There are still a couple of surprises ahead, so please keep sticking with it.
> 
> Until next Friday...
> 
> To be continued...


	21. It's Over/It Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I even say, you guys? This has been probably my favourite story to write, which surprised the hell out of me since it started as a quick little idea I needed to put to paper (or rather, Microsoft Word). Devoted Bughead shippers, I appreciate your temporary conversion to shipping Betty with Sweet Pea instead. Those of you of less fixed or more varied ship loyalties, thank you for welcoming this one into your collection. It's been a pleasure to write for such a supportive, encouraging, and invested audience these past few months.
> 
> Before this turns into some kind of Oscar acceptance speech, I'll simply say, enjoy.

XXI

Of course Betty didn’t pick Jughead, but when she paused in front of him, the whole bar held its breath. Hitting him, wildly and ceaselessly, might have made her feel better in another universe where meeting Sweet Pea hadn’t given her heart a chance to mend. Besides that, a beating would’ve belatedly offered Jughead the justification he sorely needed for why he’d been the mopey, moody one when she was the one who’d been dumped. She didn’t owe that to him and, holding his gaze, she let him know it without words. There was going to be nothing else between them except what was done _with_ each other (as friends or Serpents), not _for_ or _to_ each other. When Jughead quit looking vaguely pained, Betty rewarded him with a close-lipped smile. Then she looked from son to father.

“They can’t hit me back, right?” she asked F.P. He shook his head.

“This isn’t for our entertainment. We only want to see what’s inside of you in a figurative sense,” he grinned, “not a literal one. It’s for you to decide whether that makes this easier or harder.”

_Good question_ , Betty thought. Maybe she wouldn’t know until it was over.

“Sweet Pea,” she told F.P., making her selection.

He nodded and signalled for everyone to clear some space. Betty almost missed the security that being in the center of that tight circle had provided. She faced her boyfriend, sightline stuck around chest height until she could talk herself into meeting his eye. As soon as she did, he winked at her, then unzipped his jacket and shrugged it off.

“Don’t want you cutting your fists on the zippers,” he explained quietly, the chatter of the bloodthirsty crowd nearly drowning him out.

“Very chivalrous,” she mumbled nervously. Sweet Pea gave her a brief smile.

Before he could throw the jacket outside of their makeshift battleground, Jughead stuck out his hand to take it. Betty’s gaze slipped uneasily from one boy to the other, but Sweet Pea handed it over with such complete nonchalance, she might not have known Jughead had ever been anything but Sweet Pea’s right-hand man. As if he was seeing how much he could shock her, Jughead then passed Betty a pair of fingerless gloves. Her eyes widened and she pulled them on, not in a position to refuse the protection. She’d thank him later.

“This is your last chance,” Betty said to Sweet Pea as Jughead backed out of the circle, going to stand with Toni. Betty felt like her heart had been replaced by a hamster wheel and the hamster running on it had just been injected with an experimentally high dose of adrenaline.

“ _My_ last chance?” Sweet Pea’s eyebrows leapt up with his smile. Actually, it looked like he was trying not to laugh. Was he intentionally attempting to piss her off to increase her desire to hit him? In the background, Betty heard F.P. put a stop to what sounded like people betting on how long it would take her to give up. She guessed the leader was wrong about the initiation not being for their entertainment.

“Mhmm,” she affirmed, smoothing her hair into a ponytail that prickled her scalp. “I think this test might be as much for you as for me. How badly do you really want me here?”

“The worst thing I’m supposed to endure for that is letting you take a few swings at me?” He shrugged. “That’s nothing.”

Touched, Betty’s lips parted, but now F.P. was quieting everyone down. She didn’t want the last words they heard her say before the final stage of her initiation to be something disgustingly sentimental. With this bunch, she doubted that either she or Sweet Pea would ever hear the end of it.

“Any rules I should know about?” The question was for F.P., though Betty’s eyes didn’t leave her chosen partner.

“We give most people a talk about not whipping out any concealed weapons, but we trust you a little more than that,” said F.P. Laughter swept around the lopsided circle. “Anything you’d like to request, Sweet Pea?”

A creeping grin on her boyfriend’s face prepared Betty for a shift in tone. He twitched his head thoughtfully to the side. If his hair hadn’t been so slicked back tonight, she thought it probably would’ve flopped over.

“Just one thing. I request that the initiate keep her hits above the belt.” Betty glanced sideways to find F.P. laughing, head hanging down. His head lifted and he nodded to Sweet Pea, who then shot a playfully pleading look at Betty. “Think of our future children.”

“Can I start?” she brusquely inquired, raising more laughter from the spectators.

“Get to it, Betty,” F.P. commanded.

Being close to Sweet Pea often made her feel like she couldn’t breathe, but on her last exhale before she loosed her first punch, Betty wasn’t sure her lungs would ever be full again. Her fist collided with his cheek and nothing made sense, not respiration or her relationship or her past or her future. The one certainty Betty held onto as she was cheered from the sidelines and immediately struck out again was that the gloves had been a good idea. Higher this time, putting the full weight of her body behind it, and Sweet Pea winced. She couldn’t imagine how hard it must be for him not to pull away, the nerve it must take to face her onrushing fist. The love. She guessed he felt it too, whatever was always drawing them together. Toni had coached her into a flicking left-handed jab so Betty used it, catching the lower portion of Sweet Pea’s mouth and his chin. He was bleeding now, though he kept presenting his face to her. Betty decided to temporarily retire her left―she couldn’t believe she’d once called his features ‘delicate’; his chin was sharp!―and went back to her power with a pair of swift right-handed blows to his face. Even if his eyes didn’t look angry at her, his skin did, and Betty had to grind her teeth to make herself keep going. She planted her feet and delivered a solid blow to his chest, which she felt shoot from her fist to her elbow like a pinball release. Sweet Pea exhaled hard, fingers flexing closed into automatic fists then opening again. Aware that she had to be relentless, not give him room to recover, Betty put her left hand back into commission and punched him just as ferociously in the stomach, following it with an uppercut by her right. Laughter broke loose as Sweet Pea staggered.

“Careful, boy!” F.P. called, laughing with the others. “You only get one chance to keep your feet!”

Thinking she saw a way to end this faster, Betty rushed up to her boyfriend, tangling her leg around his. It wasn’t intuitive and it wasn’t something Toni had taught her, but she’d been friends with Kevin Keller for most of his life and all of his high school wrestling career. She knew what Kevin would do to throw his opponent off balance and assumed it would work even better in a scenario where the competitors (even if one was passive) were farther from the ground. Giving her throbbing knuckles a rest, Betty shoved Sweet Pea’s chest with both hands. Normally, he wouldn’t have budged, but with her jerking her leg back and taking his with it _while_ pushing him… well, gravity was on her side.

Their audience jumped out of the way, some more clumsily than others according to their indulgence at the bar before Betty’d shown up, she presumed. It left Sweet Pea a nice clear area to fall over in. He sat back on his hands, looking up at her like she hadn’t quite impressed him yet. Winded from the effort of hitting his body over and over, Betty rolled her eyes.

“Come on, Betty!” F.P. shouted, making her look over at him. “That,” he pointed down at Sweet Pea, “is not the face of someone who’s given up! We want to see his back flat on the ground. DON’T WE?” he yelled to a deafening cheer.

“You picked me,” Sweet Pea called up to her. His eyes were doing that intense, hypnotic thing they did so well and the blows to his face weren’t doing anything to diminish it.

“You signed me up for this!” she shouted back, feeling the freedom of expressing herself in such a primal fashion make her as light as a helium balloon. _If only I’d known sooner_ , Betty thought, _I could’ve saved my palms those scars_.

With a cocky smirk, Betty planted her foot on Sweet Pea’s chest and applied pressure. For the first time, he fought back, not with blows but with resistance. He’d locked his arms, obviously not as dazed as he’d been a minute ago when she’d been able to topple him. Narrowing her eyes, Betty pushed more firmly, though it felt like trying to shift a wall. Sweet Pea kept staring up at her, expression moving between something that said he was proud of her and something that said he expected more. She removed her foot and stepped forward to stand beside him. Though she’d planned on getting closer so that she could press straight down, making her attack more effective, the smirk he gave her changed her mind.

Betty threw her leg over Sweet Pea instead and sat in his lap, resolving to let the onlookers think whatever they wanted. Sharing a gentle smile with her boyfriend, Betty then cranked her arm back and punched him square in the face. His hands skidded on the rough floor of the Whyte Wyrm and he went horizontal.

Immediately, people were grabbing Betty under her arms, pulling her up and yelling in her ears. For what must’ve been the longest second in recorded history, she couldn’t take her eyes off Sweet Pea, craning her neck to keep him in sight as the circle caved in. Jughead stepped across her view and mouthed that he was going to help Sweet Pea. Or at least Betty assumed he’d mouthed it. He might’ve screamed it for all she knew, bombarded by sound, hands feeling like she’d laid them on a track in front of an oncoming train. She just had to trust him and let herself be thrust in front of F.P. Jones as voices she’d never heard before shouted their praise of her and demanded her acceptance into the Southside Serpents. Someone was yanked away from her side and Betty almost fell sideways, overstimulated and overwhelmed, until Toni stepped into the breach, wrapping an arm around Betty’s waist with a reassuring smile. Then Toni was shouting too, not at Betty, but for her, and F.P. was standing there absorbing it all with a grin on his face. After a minute or so, their leader mounted the bar, thudding his foot against its surface for quiet.

“ARE WE SATISFIED?” he asked the Serpents. They let out a noise that sounded somewhere in the neighbourhood of ‘yes’. “THEN LET’S GET THIS GIRL A TATTOO!” F.P. pointed down at Betty, grinning hugely.

As Betty stood in the hot squeeze of leathered bodies, meditating on whether she was ready for any more pain that evening, another, higher, voice rang out.

“NOT SO FAST, F.P.!”

Before Betty had even turned, Toni still right at her side, her eyes had widened. If there was one thing she hadn’t been anticipating tonight, it was seeing her mother at the Whyte Wyrm. As on her last visit to the Serpent stronghold, Alice was looking stylishly dishevelled―totally grunge, except for the outrageously deep V of her semi-sheer blouse. If Betty hadn’t been so freaked out about her mother being possibly about to screw up the entire initiation for her, she would’ve been profoundly embarrassed… and maybe a little proud.

“Get a drink or take off, Alice,” F.P. offered dispassionately, climbing down from the bar, “but you can’t stop this. Your daughter wants to be here and we’ve already voted her in.” He patted Betty’s shoulder reassuringly then crossed his arms, face smug.

Her mother approached on the other side―Betty and Toni finding themselves caught between the pair of adults―twisting her mouth in displeasure.

“First things first,” Alice corrected. “My daughter,” her eyes cut to Betty, “needs a jacket.”

With that, she hefted the garment that had been draped over her arm, which Betty had barely noticed, so busy had she been trying to avoid looking anywhere in the vicinity of her mother’s cleavage. Alice shook it out, holding it by the shoulders. Sure enough, it was a Serpents jacket, unmistakable vivid green snake and all. The bar became as close to silent as Betty could imagine a room full of half-drunk gang members could get.

“I was a few inches shorter at your age,” her mother expounded, not deigning to give her attention to anyone other than Betty, “but it should be a good fit.” Her serious expression shifted smoothly into a beaming smile. “Here, try it on.”

Numbly, Betty rotated, shooting Toni a _what the actual fuck?_ glance as she did so, Toni’s eyebrows giving her _hell if I know, man_ in return. Remembering the gloves she wore and worrying about them snagging the jacket lining (Alice would never forgive her for that after bestowing such a possession), Betty peeled them off with a gasp of pain and handed them over to Toni. Gritting her teeth, Betty maneuvered her arms into the sleeves while her mother guided the jacket onto her; every time her knuckles brushed fabric, Betty felt like giving something a hard kick, even if it had to be Sweet Pea. However, there was nothing her mother had taught her if not self-control.

“That’s more like it,” Alice declared, running an assessing eye over her daughter’s completed ensemble. “Finally, you’re dressed appropriately.”

Betty laughed in disbelief, recalling the way her mother had teasingly picked on her for that very thing the last time they’d entered this bar together. Maybe it was the place, the people, or the sense of belonging they were obviously both feeling (Alice already flipping her hair and planting her hand on her hip like she was ready to hold court in the middle of that rowdy crowd), but it seemed to Betty that, once again, she and Alice were on the same side. Trying to explain it would be pointless―her mother would never be naturally forthcoming―so Betty decided to just be grateful for it. Disregarding Alice’s sassy posture, Betty wrapped her arms around her.

“Thanks mom,” she whispered near her mother’s ear, feeling Alice slide the elastic from her ponytail and stroke her hair.

“I want to hang onto the one child I have left under my roof,” she replied, “even if that means supporting a _serious_ change in lifestyle.” She pulled back to give Betty a very _yes, I’m still your mother, young lady_ look. “Besides,” she confided, narrowed eyes glancing furtively around them, “these are good people.”

“What was that, Alice?” F.P. asked loudly, stepping closer and disrupting the moment with all the finesse one might use to tip a cow. Betty’s mother rolled her eyes at the Serpent leader’s entitled smirk.

“I said you owe me a drink,” Alice snapped at him, pushing towards the bar.

Betty turned away, smiling and wondering what she was supposed to do now. The group was dispersing, some offering, out of Alice’s earshot, to buy their newest little Serpent a beer or something stronger, but Betty appreciatively waved them off. There was only one person she really needed to see. Toni’s pink hair was the beacon that guided Betty to the young Serpents’ regular table. Seated next to her friend/fighting coach was Jughead, smiling placidly, and across from Toni: Sweet Pea, who immediately started to rise when he spotted Betty, to the laughter of his gathered friends. He’d gotten his jacket back, she noticed.

“Don’t get up!” Toni barked at him, twisting in her seat to greet Betty.

“I’m _fiiine_ ,” Sweet Pea complained, letting his head drop back.

“Ok,” Toni consented, “but slowly.”

Betty watched with amusement as her bruised boyfriend locked his eyes on his friend and stood at an absurdly sluggish pace. The instant Sweet Pea was upright, Betty slammed into him, nearly felling him for the second time that evening, though with a spontaneous hug instead of a calculated takedown. He laughed and squeezed her back as she let the apologies pour out. Toni broke it up, reminding her about the mandatory tattoo that would officially mark her as one of them.

“Do you know where you want it?” she inquired.

Although Betty hadn’t told anyone, she’d given the placement a lot of thought, for longer than she would’ve cared to say. She shrugged her inherited jacket down her arms and passed it to Sweet Pea.

“Hold this,” she instructed, noticing his eyes brighten at her bossy tone. Next, Betty slipped her arms out of the straps of her lacy black bra, unhooked it, and yanked it out from under her white shirt. “And this,” she told Sweet Pea, dangling the see-through lingerie. One of the young Serpents _whoop_ ed, but her gaze didn’t budge from her boyfriend’s eyes―dark and predatory.

“I’m not giving this back,” Sweet Pea warned, fingering her bra and tucking it, bunched up, into the tight back pocket of his jeans. His gaze sunk down to her chest.

Half-turning away from him to address Toni, Betty raised her arm. The oversized armhole of her muscle shirt and the absence of her bra left her ribs and the side of her breast exposed. She tapped her ribcage.

“Here.”

“You sure?” Sweet Pea butted in. Betty saw Toni’s eyes swish between them appraisingly as she turned her head to reply.

“Don’t you prefer it right where everyone might see it?” Betty asked coyly, eyebrow popping up. They both knew the ‘it’ she was referring to was sex, not the tattoo. Sweet Pea bit his bottom lip, grinning. He walked around Betty and kissed the side of her head. Apparently, it was just a cover so he could whisper in her ear: “Don’t tempt me.”

“Uhhh,” Toni droned uncomfortably, observing what Betty, blushing, knew to be the most obvious and suggestive flirting she’d personally ever engaged in. “Hold that thought, Betty. We can get you tatted another day.”

“Maybe that would be…” Betty’s eyes darted sideways to assess her boyfriend’s expression. Categorically horny. “… for the best,” she concluded, smiling sheepishly at her friend.

Toni laughed.

“Get out of here,” she urged, “but come find me later and I’ll make you a special celebratory drink.”

“Deal,” Betty agreed. She took her jacket back from Sweet Pea and then took his hand (not linking their fingers though, because of the ache in her own), figuring that if she kept hold of it then that was one less that might start wandering up or down her body while they were still in the warm, public space of the bar. “Oh,” she exclaimed, dragging Sweet Pea back to the table. Jughead looked up at her, surprised. “I wanted to thank you for the gloves.”

He smirked mischievously, glancing back and forth between the couple.

“Anything for the cause. While you were using Sweet Pea as your human heavy bag, I was living vicariously through you. Now please find the man some ice before he gets any uglier.”

“I could still knock you out, Jones,” Sweet Pea retorted jokingly, though Betty did see him touch his tongue to his split lip. He rubbed his thumb softly along the back of Betty’s hand, probably knowing she was checking on him.

“Really?” Jughead scoffed. “Because less than five minutes ago, you told me you were seeing double.”

“So? Two targets, twice as good a shot at hitting you.”

“That’s very poor logic,” Jughead gently rebuked.

“On that note,” Betty intervened chirpily, smiling between her two favourite male Serpents, “maybe I _will_ go take care of him. We’ll hang out later on though, ok Juggy?”

“Of course,” he acknowledged tactfully, seeming to Betty like he was ready to play along and pretend this ‘just friends’ thing had always come easily to them. “Maybe we can team up to try to cut through the revolting sexual tension between Alice and my dad.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, eyes closing momentarily. “That is so not something I’m ready to deal with.”

“Buck up, Betts,” he recommended, “you’re a Serpent now.”

Betty snorted, slipped back into her mother’s jacket, and waved her temporary goodbye to the others. As soon as they’d turned away, Sweet Pea slung his arm heavily across her shoulders. Startled, she wrapped hers around his back, looking anxiously up into his face.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, “I’m just trying to look feeble so they don’t suspect.”

“Suspect?”

“That I’m dragging you away to fuck you. This act,” he gestured loosely between them, “is for the sake of your reputation.”

Betty’s mouth fell open.

“You’re hardly _drag_ ―”

“Why do you make me do this to you, babe?” he interrupted. Before she could seek clarification, Sweet Pea grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder, fireman-style. “We’ll be back,” he announced boomingly as he flung the door open, “but not too soon.”

“This is ridiculous. Am I still being hazed?” Betty protested. Sweet Pea just laughed and carried her out into the night, around to the back of the Wyrm.

When he set her on her feet, she didn’t feel like grumbling anymore. In fact, with Sweet Pea standing tall in front of her, the diluted glow of background neon bleeding across his face, and the spike in her desire for recklessness, Betty felt more like kissing him. With just his eyes, Sweet Pea persuaded her to back into the wall and she went, heart racing. Despite the violence she’d shown him (committed out of necessity and never to be repeated), he leaned protectively over her and lightly tucked her hair behind her ear. Betty could hardly get her eyes to close as Sweet Pea’s face lowered, but once she did, she sighed, feeling his lips stroke fleetingly over hers. She could smell him―his body, plus his leather jacket, plus whatever he’d slicked through his black hair―and heard herself inhale shudderingly when his lips suddenly compressed against her throat. Already, there was an urgency in her, a throb between her thighs that couldn’t have been more different from the one in her battered fists, and yet she wasn’t in a hurry. Betty Cooper―planner, fixer, persister―felt the world stop around her as Sweet Pea’s mouth lifted from her neck and she opened her eyes.

“You did _amazing_ ,” he told her, face inches away. “I have never been prouder to stand in that crappy bar with all those idiots than I was tonight with you.”

“It was the right time,” Betty justified, his praise compelling her scramble to humble herself, “the right reasons, the right training… you,” she finished as his nose rubbed along hers.

“You’re perfect,” Sweet Pea said simply, not wasting his breath huffing and puffing at her humility, just letting his shoes crunch gravel as he shifted even closer to her. Oddly, Betty found it was easier to believe in the way he believed in her when he just _acted_ like it rather than arguing it.

“Do you love me?” she asked him breathlessly, feeling his eyelashes flutter against her temple.

“Like nobody,” he professed.

Betty took his chin carefully between finger and thumb, stood on tiptoe, and pressed her mouth to the three-quarters of his that was unaffected by the cut her punch had left in his lip. Hand sliding under the back of her jacket, Sweet Pea leaned into Betty and opened her mouth delicately with his tongue. She made a little noise and his hips came forward, pinning her resolutely to the wall. Breathing through her nose, Betty began to get comfortably lightheaded as her boyfriend’s tongue rolled deliberately against hers. Their kiss made caution sweet in a way she imagined it had never been for her restless young Serpent. In fact, Sweet Pea’s prediction of what was going to happen out here seemed like it wouldn’t be realized, until Betty felt his hips dip and rub insistently against hers, the swell of his erection catching her between the legs. She breathed fast through her nose, inhaling the scent of his blood, and Sweet Pea took a firm grip on her ass, moving against her again.

Things sped up then, their foolish, eager fingers fumbling with the fastenings on one another’s jeans as muted laughter rumbled on the other side of the wall. Impatiently, Betty grabbed Sweet Pea’s ass, hand slipping into his back pocket and running across the lace of the bra he’d stuffed there.

“Condoms are in the front pocket, babe,” he spoke against her lips.

“What’s your point?” She gave his ass a purposeful grope.

“Nothing, if you’re just enjoying yourself. Personally…” his palm flattened against her stomach and he slid it south, dragging down the front of her underwear as much as her unzipped jeans would allow, “…I’d rather enjoy you _under_ your clothes.”

“Oh yeah?” Betty teased, extracting her hand and copying him, bringing it around to his abdomen and tunneling it up under his shirt; even the soft cotton stung her knuckles. This close to Sweet Pea, she noticed his chest move as he worked harder to breathe. “So anything over the clothes,” her hand lifted, fingers trailing down to reposition her palm on the outside of his exposed boxers, “is a waste of time?” She pressed his rigid erection.

Like he was trying to one-up her, Sweet Pea poked two fingers into her underwear, forcing her jeans to give up ground and let his hand curve all the way down to her crotch. Betty banged her back against the wall as if pushed when his fingertips skimmed over her clit.

“Stop with the trick questions and get a condom.” His words were needy, his tone offered them as a suggestion, but his fingers held off on rubbing her.

Biting her lip, Betty took her hand off him and twisted it into his half-folded-over front pocket.

“Ouch!” she yelped, the texture of the denim and tightness of the fit too much for her scraped up knuckles. “Sorry,” she said with a smile. “It looks like my fingers are going to be pretty useless tonight.”

“Yeah, well don’t expect me to feel sorry for them. You skinned your knuckles hitting _my_ fucking face, remember?” he asked wryly, extricating the condom for her. Sweet Pea started to offer it to her, but Betty made a face to let him know she wouldn’t be tearing it open or putting it on him either. She held up her hands, the backs to him, and wriggled her fingers.

“Useless.”

Sweet Pea made a noise of soft disappointment, then met her eyes, his positively burning. He raised the wrapped condom to his mouth and surprised Betty by not tearing it open, but leaving it pinched between his teeth instead.

“Good thing _my_ fingers work just fine,” he said distortedly, keeping his teeth clenched together.

His one hand slipped out of her pants as he used both to grab the material at her hips and yank it harshly down. Betty glanced quickly from side to side; the door of the Wyrm banged shut, causing them both to stiffen, though she stiffened in alarm and he stiffened in his boxers. Long seconds later, a motorcycle thundered to life, the noise rolling away from them, and she could breathe again. Betty turned her head to look at Sweet Pea and found him grinning ecstatically, now holding the condom between two fingers. She knew what he was thinking, how he was feeling, and in a moment, she was feeling it too, or at least his rough fingers, which were back on her clit, massaging her into hysteria.

When she was wet and panting, barely keeping her feet under her for the amount she kept corkscrewing her ankles―like she thought she’d find pleasure by bumping her foot over it in the dirt―Betty plucked the front of Sweet Pea’s shirt and pulled his smirking face down to hers.

“I want you. Now,” she gasped. Sweet Pea shook his head mournfully.

“I can’t lift you.”

“You carried me out here!”

“I think that was the last of my strength.”

“You sure?”

His distressed sigh warped into a groan of desire as Betty (careful not to bend her fingers more than they could stand) pushed his jeans, then his boxers down his hips.

“You punched me in the chest, you animal,” he accused, laying his hand over his heart. Betty frowned at him sympathetically.

“We’re giving up then?” Maybe it was mean to pretend, but she couldn’t help teasing him.

“Hell no. We don’t give up,” he said gruffly and grasped her hips, turning her to face the wall. She heard the wrapper rip, felt his cock nudge her entrance, then his warm hands slid straight up her stomach to hold her breasts as he thrust inside.

Her exhale hiccupped out and she braced her hands against the wall as Sweet Pea pumped into her again with a groan. Betty laid her cheek on her arm, peeking back at him. Eyes closed, licking thoughtfully along his bottom lip, he looked so sexy. And she reveled in it. His hold on her breasts contracted and Betty arched lustfully into those hands, big like the rest of him. She pushed her hips back, moaning when he pulsed ahead, driving up along her inner front wall. By the time they’d hit half a dozen thrusts, they’d adjusted their stances and her boyfriend was bucking into her with an easy repetitive motion that had Betty biting down briefly on her leather sleeve.

She made the mistake of believing it couldn’t get better, feeling him hot between her legs and his hands roving her chest, but Sweet Pea proved her wrong; she was starting to think that was a thing with him. He leaned closer (she felt the angle change, making her tighten up) until he had his chest to her back, his heart to her Serpents symbol. His hands fell, holding her waist, tracing over her stomach―one going ( _finally!_ her brain scream) even lower, seeking fingers discovering her clit all over again. The best thing was the way he kissed her cheek and swept the hair away from her ear with his nose so she could hear his uneven, love-struck breathing. With his fingers toying with her, and his trembling breath, and his greedy, giving thrusts, Betty came powerfully, nearly collapsing but for his hands holding her up. He was persisting, maybe (probably) just to show her he could. Weak, yet deeply content, she caught one of his hands where it was stroking along her ribs like they were piano keys his fingers were about to play and brought it to her mouth, doing nothing but grazing her lips aimlessly over the back of his hand. His thrusts became shorter, less rhythmic and Betty, loosely holding his hand, turned to look at him, face pressed to his.

“I love you,” she said. His nose dug into her cheek as he gasped her name and his entire body shuddered against hers.

After he’d thrown the condom into a rusted garbage can, which Betty figured was probably full of its latex kin and worse, Sweet Pea came back to where she was standing, combing her fingers distractedly through her hair. His eyes went from hers to her lips and he kissed her like he couldn’t help it, until she was leaning her shoulders into the wall, clinging to the arm he’d flexed next to her head, propping himself up and over her. The door of the Wyrm clanged again and this time, someone turned their corner and stared at them woozily. They didn’t exactly jump apart, but they managed to disconnect their mouths and turn their heads.

“Helping her find her keys,” Sweet Pea explained to the man, indicating Betty by patting her hip. She was so, so thankful that they’d both pulled their jeans back up―though she still felt startled and calmed it by sneaking her hand into her boyfriend’s jacket and touching his chest. The man snorted.

“Yeah right. I’m not _that_ fucking drunk, kid.” He shook his head and retreated. Betty and Sweet Pea glanced at each other and laughed.

“We could just take off,” he tossed out. Tempted, Betty clutched at his hips, eyeing him up and down.

“No,” she decided. “They’re probably waiting for me.”

“Oh, fuck them,” Sweet Pea griped, kicking the wall of the Wyrm.

“Hey!” Betty snapped jokingly. “That’s my family you’re talking about! You see this patch, buddy?” She pointed to the miniature embroidered snake that Alice or someone else had affixed to the sleeve years ago. “This means something to me! I worked hard to―”

Sweet Pea grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her soundly.

“Too much?” she asked with raised eyebrows when he lifted his mouth from hers. “I’ll learn to get more like them.”

“Don’t,” he told her. “I’m kinda hoping they’ll get more like you.”

Betty grinned and leaned her head into Sweet Pea’s shoulder, letting him throw an arm around her and lead her back towards the bar’s entrance. Before they could step inside, she made him stop so she could glance around the parking lot. There was nothing much to see, really, but Betty was smiling when she tilted her head back and looked at the stars.

 

_The End_


End file.
